1ORAI 


3CRIPTIVE 


STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

HUMOROUS  AND  DESCRIPTIVE 

OF 

Southern  Life  a  Century  Ago 

BY 

AUGUSTUS  B.  LONGSTREET,  D.D.,  LL.D. 


Compiled  and 
Edited  by 

FITZ  R.  LONGSTREET 


1912 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  COMPANY 

Philadelphia 


COPYRIGHT  1912 
BY  FlTZ  R.  LONGSTREET 


r»     £ 

Preface 


IT  is  proper  and  perhaps  of  interest  to  say  a  few 
words  explanatory,  in  regard  to  the  following 
articles  and  their  writer.     Augustus  B.  Long- 
street,   known  throughout   the   South  as  Judge 
Longstreet,  flourished  as  an  author  from  1835  to 
1870. 

He  was  prominent  not  only  as  a  literary  man, 
but  as  an  educator,  having  been  president  of 
several  universities  and  also  prominent  in  church 
circles. 

He  wrote  mostly  in  the  spirit  of  pastime,  or 
from  fondness,  and  his  writings  are  thus  scattered 
in  time  and  place.  The  following  sketches  are  pre 
sented  by  the  compiler  after  a  tedious  research  in 
the  old  literary  publications  of  prominence  during 
the  antebellum  period,  excepting  one  or  two  from 
his  book,  "  Georgia  Scenes,  "  that  are  brought  in 
to  complete  the  series.  I  have  taken  the  liberty 
of  changing  slightly  the  names  of  one  or  two 
articles,  so  as  to  give  them  more  appropriate 
titles  and  better  appearance.  I  hope  this  will  be 
justified  by  their  effect  and  by  the  appreciation 
of  those  who  like  to  read  true  delineation  of 
human  nature,  in  which  art  we  think  the  author 
was  a  master. 

FITZ  R.  LONGSTREET. 

Gainesville^  Ga. 


CONTENTS 

i 

THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR;  OR,  THE  NATVILLE  GEM 9 

II 
THE  OLD  SOLDIERS — A  Narrative     ............    41 

III 
DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN 50 

IV 
FAMILY  GOVERNMENT e 88 

V 
A  FAMILY  PICTURE • ••    99 

VI 
THE  OLD  WOMEN — A  Tribute •  .  115 

VII 
THE  MATCHMAKER— JULIA  AND  CLARISSA  ........   116 

VIII 
A  CHARMING  WIPE •  181 

IX 
THE  BALL • 227 

X 
WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL 245 

XI 
WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE 314 


I. 

"THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR"  OR   "THE 
NATVILLE  GEM/' 

In  times  gone  by  there  was  a  handsome,  thrifty 
little  village  in  Georgia,  which,  we  beg,  leave  to 
designate  by  the  name  of  Natviite-.' •  Tn  no  village 
did  more  harmony  and  good  feeling  prevail  than 
in  this.  The  surrounding  lands,  which  were  rich, 
were  owned  by  the  villagers,  who  usually  visited 
them  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  forenoon,  and  spent 
the  rest  of  the  day  in  social  chat  on  the  shady  side 
of  main  street  in  summer,  and  on  the  sunny  side  in 
winter.  At  these  meetings,  of  course,  the  affairs 
of  the  nation  were  daily  discussed;  but  as  the 
assembly,  with  but  few  exceptions,  were  all  one 
way  of  thinking,  the  discussions  were  of  the  most 
temperate  character.  Even  the  very  few  who 
differed  with  the  majority  had  the  utmost  indul 
gence  extended  to  their  opinions.  Lawyer  Jeter 
and  Lawyer  Moore  headed  the  majority,  and 
exercised  a  mild  but  unlimited  authority  over 
them,  in  all  matters  of  politics — indeed  I  may  say, 
in  all  matters  of  public  interest.  What  is  remark 
able,  the  leaders  themselves  agreed  in  everything, 

(9) 


STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

except  as  to  the  merits  of  their  clients '  cases.  In 
the  discussion  of  these,  to  be  sure,  they  were  some 
times,  as  one  of  them  used  to  say,  "pretty  tart" 
upon  each  other;  but  the  tartness  was  always 
forgotten  as  soon  as  the  case  that  produced  it  was 
ended.  Where  such  good  feeling  prevailed  among 
the  husbands,  of  course  a  better  feeling,  if  possible, 
prevailed  among  their  wives.  They  visited  one 
another  with  the  freedom  of  relations,  interchanged 
cooking  receipts,  garden-seeds,  flowers  and  shrub 
bery,  in  short,  everything  that  could  delight  the 
eye  or  the  palate.  The  consequence  was  that  all 
the  good  things,  and  sweet  things,  and  pretty 
things,  that  were  found  in  one  family,  were  found 
in  all ;  so  that  the  stranger  who  visited  the  village, 
invariably  noticed  the  remarkable  coincidence  of 
similarity.  If  he  remained  long  enough,  he  was 
sure  to  have  a  fair  opportunity  of  making  com 
parisons;  for  the  unbounded  hospitality  of  the 
villagers,  male  and  female,  introduced  him  to  one 
or  more  meals,  with  every  family. 

Thus  stood  matters  in  the  happy  village,  when 
a  stranger  made  his  appearance  at  Mr.  Gibbs* 
tavern.  He  dropped  in  at  night,  just  at  supper 
time — was  seated  at  the  table — supped  and  upon 
rising  was,  by  his  own  request,  immediately  con 
ducted  to  his  room.  At  supper  he  was  observed 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  n 

to  raise  his  eyes  from  his  plate  but  twice  or  thrice, 
and  then  as  it  seemed,  only  to  take  a  hasty 
general  survey  of  the  boarders.  The  next  morn 
ing  he  did  not  leave  his  room  until  summoned 
to  the  breakfast  table.  This  meal  he  disposed 
of  as  he  had  the  one  before.  Leaving  the  table, 
he  spent  three  hours  in  rambling  over  the  town 
and  neighboring  hills.  On  his  return,  he  seated 
himself  in  the  piazza,  just  long  enough  to  be 
asked  and  to  give  his  name,  and  again  took 
his  room.  His  name  as  given  to  the  landlord, 
was  Asaph  Doolittle.  All  the  village  had  now 
seen  him — men,  women  and  children — and  all 
were  curious  to  know  who  he  was.  The  landlord 
told  the  gentlemen,  the  gentlemen  told  their  wives, 
and  their  wives  told  their  children  that  it  was 
Asaph  Doolittle;  and  this  was  all  that  any  of 
them  could  tell.  Dinner  came,  and  Asaph  did  as 
before.  After  dinner  he  asked  for  his  horse  to 
take  a  ride.  Mr.  Gibbs  complied  with  his  request ; 
and  was  relieved  of  a  little  anxiety  when  he  saw 
him  set  out  minus  his  portmanteau. 

Asaph  took  the  big  road  that  led  north — was 
gone  about  two  hours — returned  and  took  the  other 
end  of  the  same  road — was  gone  about  as  long — 
again  returned  and  took  his  room.  Another  sup 
per,  night  and  breakfast  passed  off  as  had  the  first. 


STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

After  breakfast  Asaph  took  another  ride  east  and 
west,  that  consumed  the  forenoon.  Three  whole 
days  did  he  spend  in  doing  nothing  but  eating, 
sleeping,  reading,  writing  and  rambling  through 
and  around  the  village.  In  the  meantime,  the 
citizens,  one  and  all,  became  exceedingly  distressed 
to  know  who  this  Mr.  Doolittle  was,  and  where  he 
was  from,  and  what  he  was  after.  Every  meeting 
was  opened  with  the  question :  "  Have  you  found 
out  anything  about  Doolittle?"  and  the  question 
was  invariably  answered  in  the  negative.  If 
they  were  in  the  midst  of  an  animated  discussion, 
the  appearance  of  Mr.  Doolittle  checked  it  as 
instantly  as  a  funeral  procession  would  have 
done.  As  they  had  waited  a  reasonable  time 
for  Mr.  Doolittle  to  make  himself  known,  and 
he  had  not  done  so — as  they  had  all  stood  ready 
to  show  him  the  usual  hospitalities  of  the  vil 
lage,  and  he  had  not  allowed  them  an  oppor 
tunity  of  doing  so,  they  felt  themselves  at  perfect 
liberty  to  think  what  they  pleased  of  Mr.  Doolittle, 
and  all  of  them  except  the  young  ladies  (for  Mr. 
Doolittle  was  "fair  to  look  upon,")  thought  very 
hard  things  of  him.  After  weighing  the  proba 
bilities  of  his  being  this  or  that  bad  character, 
they  settled  down  pretty  unanimously  in  the 
opinion,  that  he  had  come  to  cheat  them  out  of 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  13 

their  lands,  in  some  way  or  other,  they  didn't 
know  exactly  how.  This  opinion  harmonized 
with  all  his  movements.  He  had  been  seen  on 
every  road  within  five  miles  of  the  village.  He 
had  walked  through  the  fields  of  Squire  Lewis, 
Doctor  Foster,  Lawyer  Moore,  Mr.  Ligon  and 
Captain  Wells,  the  very  best  lands  in  the  vicinity; 
and  he  had  inquired  of  their  negroes  how  much 
land  their  masters  owned,  and  how  many  negroes 
they  worked.  Their  suspicions  were  confirmed, 
when  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  he  asked 
the  landlord  to  introduce  him  to  the  Clerk  of  the 
Court ;  and  asked  the  Clerk  of  the  Court  for  a  file 
of  the  newspapers  containing  the  advertisements 
Of  the  Sheriff's  sales,  and  other  public  notices 
proceeding  from  the  Courts.  These  he  had  looked 
over  carefully  for  a  year  back,  and  made  notes 
upon  them.  It  was  now  deliberated  in  full  council 
what  was  to  be  done  with  this  Mr.  Doolittle;  and 
Billy  Figs  proposed  to  ride  him  on  a  rail.  But 
the  Barristers  protested  against  such  an  outrage. 
They  represented  the  world  as  looking  with  intense 
interest  upon  the  grand  experiment  of  the  Amer 
ican  Government — enslaved  millions  as  standing 
ready  to  burst  the  shackles  of  Despotism,  and  rise 
to  the  dignity  of  free  men,  as  soon  as  we  should 
convince  them  that  man  is  capable  of  self-govern- 


i4  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

ment.  "What,"  said  one  of  them,  "will  be 
thought  of  us  when  it  shall  be  proclaimed  through 
all  Europe,  that  in  this  land  of  liberty,  and  in  this 
village  renowned  for  its  intelligence,  hospitality, 
and  good  order,  a  freeborn  son  of  Columbia,  travel 
ing,  as  he  supposed,  under  the  safeguard  of  the 
American  Eagle,  was  ridden  on  a  rail!"  This 
appeal,  which  covered  Billy's  face  with  blushes 
(for  he  now  saw  plainly  that  he  had  nearly  ruined 
the  world),  quieted  the  malcontents  for  the  time 
being.  Still  as  they  were  satisfied  that  he  was 
after  no  good,  they  entertained  cruel  suspicions 
of  Asaph,  and  looked  at  him  accordingly.  Even 
those  good  ladies,  who  a  day  or  two  before  had  been 
so  anxious  to  know  who  he  was,  now  when  asked  the 
old  question  by  their  children,  bawled  out  furi 
ously  that  they  didn't  know  Mr.  Doolittle — and 
didn't  want  to  know  him — and  hoped  they  never 
would  know  him — and  would  have  been  right  glad 
if  there  had  never  been  a  Doolittle  hatched,  born  or 
created.  There,  now  I  hope  you're  satisfied.  On 
the  evening  of  the  fourth  day,  Asaph  did  not  retire 
to  his  room  directly  after  supper  as  usual,  but 
conversed  freely  with  the  landlord  and  with  other 
persons  to  whom  he  was  introduced  by  his  host. 
Nothing  was  found  objectionable  in  him.  The 
next  day  his  acquaintance  was  considerably  ex- 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  15 

tended,  embracing  among  others  the  two  lawyers. 
— That  night  he  invited  these  gentlemen  to  his 
room.  After  a  friendly  conversation  of  an  hour 
or  two,  Mr.  Doolittle  informed  them  that  he  had 
visited  the  place  with  the  design  of  establishing  a 
newspaper  there,  if  there  was  any  likelihood  of  its 
being  tolerably  well  patronized;  and  he  said  he 
would  be  thankful  to  them  for  their  advice  in  the 
matter.  .  .  They  highly  approved  of  his  pro 
ject,  and  promised  him  their  assistance  by  purse, 
pen,  and  influence.  It  was  the  very  thing  they 
wanted.  There  was  talent  enough  in  the  village 
and  the  neighborhood  around  to  support  a  paper 
handsomely.  As  there  was  no  paper  within  forty 
miles  of  the  place,  all  the  advertising  custom  of 
the  adjoining  counties  would  certainly  flow  to  this. 
Withal  it  would  exert  a  valuable  influence  upon 
the  politics  of  two  neighboring  counties,  which 
sent  a  heavy  representation  to  the  legislature,  and 
which  were  strongly  tinctured  with  federalism. 

"What  is  the  politics  of  this  county?"  said 
Asaph. 

"Oh,  Jeffersonian  to  the  core.  There  is  hardly 
a  division  among  us.  We  all  espouse  the  prin 
ciples  of  that  great  apostle  of  liberty. " 

Now,  Asaph  had  been  thirteen  years  in  a  printing 
office  in  Connecticut — he  had  been  apprentice, 


1 6  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

journeyman  and  foreman,  and  in  all  that  time  he 
had  never  set  one  type,  nor  seen  one  set  in  praise 
of  Mr.  Jefferson,  or  of  his  politics.  His  mother  had 
taught  him  from  his  childhood  to  abhor  Satan, 
and  his  father  had  taught  him  that  if  there  was  any 
difference  between  Satan  and  Mr.  Jefferson,  Satan 
had  the  best  of  it.  Though  Asaph  was  a  man  of 
wonderful  equanimity,  he  could  not  conceal  his 
emotions  of  surprise,  at  hearing  it  announced  in 
sober  earnest,  that  Mr.  Jefferson  was  the  great 
apostle  of  liberty.  He  stared  for  a  moment  as  if 
he  had  seen  a  ghost ;  but  soon  recovering  his  self- 
possession  a  little,  he  brought  his  countenance  to 
the  likeness  of  one  who  holds  one  end  of  a  string  in 
his  mouth,  while  he  twists  the  other,  and  sat  mute, 
while  his  friends  continued. 

"No  other  politics  will  do  in  this  latitude.  A 
federal  paper  would  get  no  support  here.  There 
are  but  three  federalists  in  the  village,  and  not  ten 
times  that  number  in  the  county.  Indeed  it  is 
the  worst  time  that  could  be  selected  for  the  estab 
lishment  of  such  a  paper,  when  the  excitement 
about  the  alien  and  sedition  laws  has  hardly  sub 
sided.  But  a  Republican  paper  will  do  admirably. 
We  will  insure  you  at  least  two  hundred  sub 
scribers,  and  all  the  advertising  custom  of  this 
and  several  neighboring  counties  right  away." 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  17 

Asaph  said  he  would  think  the  matter  over ;  and 
his  friends  left  him,  promising  to  call  and  see  him 
again  the  next  morning.  He  retired  to  bed,  and 
surrendered  himself  to  the  following  train  of 
reflections:  "  What  will  Maum  and  Dad  think  of 
me  if  they  hear  that  I  have  come  out  a  Jeffer- 
sonian  Republican!  What  will  Mr.  Croswell,  my 
old  Bos  think !  I  shall  have  to  change  papers  with 
him,  and  he'll  lash  me  like  all  natMr." 

"  But  I  must  get  to  business  of  some  kind,  and 
that  speedily,  and  I  guess  I  shall  find  no  better 
place  than  this.  Well,  after  all,  may  it  not  be  that 
Jefferson  is  a  better  man  than  I  have  taken  him  to 
be?  I've  heard  many  things  said  about  him, 
and  I  have  seen  many  sharp  things  published 
against  him ;  but  all  great  men  have  to  bear  this — 
I'll  think  over  the  matter. "  And  he  thought  over 
the  matter  until  he  dropped  to  sleep,  and  could 
call  to  mind  but  one  good  thing  that  Mr.  Jefferson 
had  ever  done;  and  that  was,  the  writing  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence. — His  dreams  were 
a  confused  medley  of  maum  and  dad,  and  bos  and 
types,  and  Mr.  Jefferson's  red  breeches. 

The  next  morning  his  friends  called  upon  him 
betimes;  and  he  proposed  to  them  to  devote  the 
paper  exclusively  to  Arts,  Sciences  and  Polite 
Literature ;  but  they  told  him  this  would  never  do 

2 


1 8  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

alone.  The  people  were  all  politicians,  the  pure 
principles  of  Republicanism  were  just  getting 
clearly  in  the  ascendant,  and  it  was  very  impor 
tant  that  these  principles  should  be  pressed  home 
upon  the  hearts  and  understandings  of  the  people 
at  large. 

Asaph  then  wished  to  know  whether  they  would 
take  an  interest  in  the  paper,  and  take  charge  of 
the  Editorial  department. 

They  replied  that  they  would  be  very  willing 
to  do  so,  but  for  their  professional  engagements. 
When  at  home  they  would  be  ever  ready  to  fill 
the  Editorial  chair ;  and  even  on  the  circuit,  when 
not  too  much  pressed  with  business,  they  would 
endeavor  to  furnish  something  for  the  paper; 
but  as  to  taking  an  interest  in  it,  though  they  had 
no  doubt  it  would  be  an  exceedingly  profitable 
enterprise,  they  thought  they  could  better  promote 
it  by  being  entirely  disinterested.  After  several 
conferences,  Asaph  resolved  to  feel  the  pulse  of 
the  people  with  a  Prospectus.  Accordingly,  he 
begged  the  Squires  to  write  him  one  suitable  to 
the  time  and  place;  and  the  meeting  adjourned 
to  eight  o'clock  that  evening. 

The  villagers,  who  had  begun  to  be  greatly 
alarmed  at  these  frequent  meetings  of  the  stranger 
with  the  head  jurists  of  the  place,  were  perfectly 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  19 

transported  when  they  understood  that  Mr. 
Doolittle  was  going  to  do  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  establish  a  newspaper  in  their  midst.  Some 
of  them  had  never  seen  an  Editor,  and  many  of 
them  had  never  seen  a  printing  press ;  but  all  saw 
some  advantage  that  would  result  from  the  pro 
ject.  It  would  give  character  to  the  village- 
encourage  youthful  genius,  make  Franklins  of 
poor  children,  give  a  healthful  tone  to  public 
morals,  enlighten  the  ignorant,  inspire  laudable 
ambition,  save  postage,  concentrate  advertise 
ments,  right  at  their  doors,  etc.,  etc. 

The  trio  split  upon  the  name  of  the  forthcoming 
gazette.  Jeter  was  for  the  "  JefTersonian  Republi 
can;"  Moore  was  for  "The  Scourge  of  Feder 
alism;"  and  Asaph  was  for  "The  Natville  Gem." 
After  a  long  and  animated  debate,  they  discovered 
that  they  all  agreed.  That  the  Jeffersonian 
Republican  must  be  The  Scourage  of  Feder 
alism,  and  that  "The  Natville  Gem"  could  only 
reflect  the  light  of  Republicanism.  It  was  there 
fore  agreed  that  Mr.  Doolittle  should  name  his 
paper  as  he  pleased. 

The  Prospectus  was  soon  drawn  up.  It  ad 
verted  to  the  rising  importance  of  Natville — its 
central  position  between  Buckhead  and  Dogs- 
boro' — the  vast  amount  of  talent  which  it  con- 


STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 


tained,  and  which  was  compelled  to  lie  dormant  for 
the  want  of  communication  with  the  world,  etc. 
The  politics  of  the  Gem  would  be  of  the  Jeffer- 
sonian  school;  but  as  truth  was  its  object,  its 
columns  would  be  open  to  all  parties,  whose  com 
munications  should  bear  the  impress  of  modera 
tion  and  candor.  The  grand  object  of  the  Gem 
would  be  to  elevate  the  standard  of  public  morals  ; 
as  all  history  had  proved  that  a  pure  morality  was 
the  only  unfailing  safeguard  of  Republican  insti 
tutions.  No  pains  would  be  spared  to  make  the 
Gem  useful  to  farmers,  as  they  were  at  last  the 
bone  and  sinew  of  the  country;  at  the  same  time 
commerce  and  manufactures  would  receive  due 
attention,  etc.,  etc. 

A  manuscript  Prospectus  was  set  up  at  the 
tavern  door,  and  Mr.  Doolittle  concluded  to  remain 
a  few  days  to  mark  its  success,  before  he  proceeded 
to  have  a  number  of  copies  printed  for  circulation. 
In  less  than  three  days,  the  name  of  every  man 
in  the  village  was  appended  to  it,  with  not  a  few 
from  the  country.  In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Doo 
little  grew  rapidly  in  public  estimation.  Even 
those  ladies  who  wished  there  never  had  been  a 
Doolittle  "hatched,  born,  or  created,"  invited 
him  to  their  houses  ;  and  went  a  little  beyond  their 
usual  civilities  for  his  entertainment.  Some 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  21 

thought  they  saw  in  him  a  handsome  likeness  of 
Dr.  Franklin — taking  the  Doctor's  picture  as  a 
fair  representation  of  his  person. 

Such  was  Mr.  Doolittle's  encouragement,  that 
he  immediately  rented  an  old  backstore,  gave 
the  needful  directions  for  converting  it  into  a 
printing  office,  and  left  the  village  in  order  to 
bring  on  his  press.  He  had  not  been  gone  long, 
before  his  Prospectus  appeared  in  all  the  Southern 
papers;  those  of  the  Republican  stamp  "con 
gratulating  themselves  and  the  country  in  having 
added  to  their  corps,  such  an  able  champion  of 
sound  principles.  They  had  understood  Mr.  Doo- 
little  to  be  a  stanch  and  well-tried  Republican  of 
the  old  school;  possessing  talents  of  the  highest 
order,  and  a  character,  which,  even  Federal  malig 
nity  had  not  dared  to  asperse."  The  Federal 
papers  on  the  other  hand,  under  various  headings, 
such  as  "Another  hireling  set  to  work — The  Devil's 
kingdom  extending — Tom  Jefferson's  last  imp,  an 
nounced  that  in  some  obscure  village  in  Georgia, 
never  before  heard  of,  one  Doolittle,  from  Nowhere, 
and  known  by  nobody,  was  about  to  issue  another 
disorganizing  sheet,  to  be  called  The  Natville 
Gem — all  of  which  betokens  that  it  is  to  Do  a  very 
little  business." 

These  notices,  some  of  which  reached  Natville, 


22  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

aided  Mr.  Doolittle's  subscription  list  consider 
ably.  The  citizens  of  the  village  considering  him 
a  persecuted  man,  themselves  insulted,  and  anx 
ious  that  he  should  be  placed  in  an  attitude  of 
defence,  redoubled  their  exertions  in  his  behalf. 

In  a  few  months  the  press  was  up,  and  the  first 
number  out.  Though  it  was  not  much  larger 
than  a  pane  of  glass,  "it  was  very  neatly  gotten 
up."  It  contained  a  handsome  editorial  address 
by  Jeter,  a  spirited  vindication  of  the  principles 
of  the  Gem,  and  of  the  rank  and  responsibility  of 
the  village,  by  Moore — some  short  but  well-written 
extracts  from  the  " Aurora"  and  "Richmond  En 
quirer."  An  apology  found  on  the  smallness  of 
the  exchange  list  as  yet,  and  the  hurry  of  getting 
out  the  first  number,  for  the  dearth  of  matter. 
A  few  good  selections  in  prose  and  poetry,  and 
several  advertisements;  one  of  a  cock-fight  in  an 
adjoining  country. 

Upon  the  whole,  the  patrons  of  the  Gem  were 
very  well  satisfied  with  it. 

I  must  here  remark  that  Mr.  Doolittle  was  but 
an  indifferent  writer  at  best,  and  for  reasons  al 
ready  given,  utterly  incompetent  to  pen  a  passable 
article  in  defence  of  Republicanism. 

At  this  time,  the  Augusta  Herald,  a  Federal 
paper,  was  edited  by  one  of  the  shrewdest,  most 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  23 

intelligent  and  satiric  writers  of  his  time.  Hon 
ored  be  his  memory,  though  I  never  agreed  with 
him  in  politics! 

I  give  his  reception  of  the  first  number  of  the 
Gem,  not  as  a  fair  specimen  of  his  style  or  his 
wit,  but  for  its  connection  with  what  follows: 

"We  received  from  the  Post  Office  yesterday,  a 
neat  little  roll,  which  we  doubted  not  was  a  joint 
remission  from  two  or  three  of  our  subscribers. 
Having  no  immediate  call  for  money  (a  rare 
thing  with  us  by  the  way)  we  put  it  into  our  fob, 
were  we  suffered  it  to  remain  until  called  for. 
Going  to  market  the  next  morning,  a  chicken  cart 
drove  up,  and  as  chickens  were  in  great  demand, 
a  general  scramble  for  them  ensued.  We  secured 
six,  having  in  either  hand  three,  and  being  un 
willing  to  entrust  any  of  them  to  empty  hands, 
where  there  was  such  a  yearning  for  these  feath 
ered  bipeds,  we  requested  the  countryman  to 
insert  his  fingers  in  our  fob,  and  draw  out  a  little 
bundle  of  change  that  he  would  find  there.  He 
did  as  directed,  and  judge  what  was  our  surprise 
upon  seeing  the  bundle  opened,  to  find  it  a  news 
paper,  entitled  The  Natville  Gem.  We  offered  it 
to  the  farmer  for  the  six  chickens;  but  he  re 
fused  to  take  it.  We  told  him  we  did  not  deal  in 
jewelry,  and  therefore  could  not  say  exactly  what 


24  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

this  gem  was  worth,  but  we  had  no  doubt  it  was 
very  valuable,  and  had  cost  Mr.  Jefferson  a  good 
deal  of  money;  but  that  we  would  give  it  to  him 
for  one  chicken.  Whereupon  he  grew  crusty, 
cursed  the  Gem  and  Mr.  Jefferson,  and  told  us  if 
we  didn't  offer  him  something  better  than  that 
little  thumb-paper  for  his  chickens,  he'd  ease  us 
of  them  mighty  quick.  We  therefore  requested 
him  to  put  the  Gem  in  our  hat,  and  his  hand  in 
our  vest-pocket,  where  he  would  find  a  little 
jewelry  that  he  would  perhaps  like  better. 

"The  Gem  comes  out  under  the  name  of  a  Mr. 
Doolittle,  but  we  understand  that  Mr.  Doolittle 
has  very  little  to  do  with  it.  A  brace  of  lawyers, 
we  learn,  have  kindly  relieved  him  of  all  the 
trouble  of  his  paper,  except  that  of  paying  its 
expenses,  setting  the  type,  and  correcting  the 
proofs.  Now 

We  say  so  Mr.  Doolittle, 

That  though  his  paper's  too  little. 

Assuredly  he  knew  little — 

when  he  entrusted  the  management  of  it  to  law 
yers.  This  selection  reminds  us  of  an  anecdote 
which  we  once  heard,  of  a  gentleman  in  this  coun 
try  employing  a  raw  son  of  the  Emerald  Isle  to 
clear  new  ground  for  him.  Paddy  requested  a 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  25 

sight  of  his  tools.  The  employer  amused  at  the 
request,  and  curious  to  see  what  instrument  he 
would  select  to  clear  new  ground,  carried  him  to 
a  chest  containing  an  assortment  of  tools  of  vari 
ous  kinds.  Paddy  looked  them  all  over  very 
carefully,  and  finally  selected  a  jack-plane  and 
drawing  knife  as  the  very  things  for  his  purpose." 
The  article  went  on  to  a  much  greater  length 
than  we  would  be  permitted  to  follow.  Suffice 
it  to  say  it  contained  such  pointed  allusions  to 
Moore  and  Jeter,  as  plainly  showed  that  their 
names  as  well  as  their  prof ession  were  fully  known 
to  the  Editor  of  the  Herald.  It  furthermore  set 
forth  the  village  of  Natville  in  a  most  ridiculous 
point  of  light,  advising  the  citizens,  especially  the 
ladies,  to  go  to  the  cock-fight,  as  well  calculated 
"to  elevate  the  standard  of  morals  in  Natville." 
The  lawyers  declared  there  was  a  spy  in  the  camp, 
and  that  he  was  one  of  the  Federalists ;  and  as 
they  did  not  know  which  it  was,  they  charged  it 
upon  all  three  by  turns.  In  the  next  paper  they 
gave  pretty  broad  hints  to  this  effect.  The  Fed 
eralists  wrote  a  joint  reply,  which  was  excluded 
from  the  Gem,  on  the  ground  of  length,  person 
alities,  intemperance  of  feeling,  etc.  They  flew 
to  the  Herald,  and  a  long  newspaper  war  opened 
between  them  and  the  editors,  which  grew  hotter 


26          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

and  hotter  with  every  number.  This  had  not 
ceased  when  Mr.  Jeter  having  lost  an  important 
case  in  the  inferior  Court  as  he  believed  by  the 
ignorance  of  one  of  the  Justices,  was  very  much 
incensed  against  him.  The  name  of  the  offending 
Magistrate  was  Whatcut.  He  resided  upon  Goose 
creek,  was  a  very  corpulent  man,  and  drank  per 
haps  a  little  too  much  for  his  calling — though  not 
more  than  was  common  in  those  days  with  men 
who  were  considered  very  temperate — Jeter  in 
the  moment  of  excitement,  penned  the  following 
article,  which  appeared  in  the  next  day's  Gem : 

A  Little  Receipt  for  Making  a  Big  Judge. 
Go  down  to  Goose  creek — catch  a  gander — put  a 
quill  in  his  mouth — blow  him  up  until  his  middle 
parts  hide  his  thighs — pour  a  half  pint  of  old 
Jamaica  into  him — set  him  on  the  bench,  and  call 
him  Potgut,  and  he  will  make  an  excellent  judge. 

Justice. 

A  few  hours'  cooling  time  led  Jeter  to  repent 
of  sending  such  an  indelicate  article  to  the  press, 
and  he  went  late  at  night  to  recall  it ;  but  he  was 
too  late ;  the  form  was  made  up,  and  the  Receipt 
must  come  out,  or  no  Gem  appear  the  next  day. 
The  day  following  the  appearance  of  the  piece, 
Whatcut  came  into  town,  and  marched  directly 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  27 

to  the  printing  office,  where  he  found  Doolittle 
calmly  engaged  in  distributing  types. 

"Are  you  the  author  of  a  piece  signed  Justice 
in  yesterday's  paper?"  said  he  to  Doolittle. 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  who  is?" 

"It's  against  the  rules  of  the  office." 

"Don't  tell  me  about  your  rules,  sir.  Tell  me 
who  wrote  the  piece,  or  I'll  floor  you  in  an  instant 
with  this  stick,"  flourishing  an  awful  hickory 
stick  over  his  head. 

"Stop,  sir!"  said  Doolittle,  dodging— " Jeter 
wrote  it." 

Away  went  the  Judge,  and  soon  returned  with 

A  Receipt  for  Making  a  Jack-legged  Lawyer. 
Catch  a  pole-cat,  stuff  him  with  brass,  and  call 
him  Cheater,  and  he  will  make  an  excellent  lawyer. 

Truth. 

Whatcut  had  hardly  left  the  office  before  Jeter 
entered  it,  and  Doolittle  told  him  all  that  had 
happened.  "Oh,  Doolittle,"  said  Jeter,  "it  was 
abominable  to  expose  your  correspondents  in 
that  way.  You  ought  to  have  informed  me  of 
Whatcut 's  demand  before  you  gave  up  my  name ; 
and  I  would  have  made  fair  weather  with  him; 
for  really  I've  no  enmity  against  the  old  fellow; 


28  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

but  now  it  is  impossible,  I  fear,  to  make  peate; 
and  I  can't  tell  where  this  matter  will  end.  The 
great  value  of  a  newspaper  is  in  its  enabling  one 
to  reprove  vices  without  being  known,  and  as  the 
law  was  open  to  you  if  he  assaulted  you,  you  cer 
tainly  ought  to  have  taken  a  little  beating  rather 
than  have  involved  me  in  this  manner,  and  to 
have  ruined  your  gazette  forever  as  an  instrument 
of  moral  reform." 

Doolittle  offered  the  very  best  apology  in  the 
world  for  what  he  had  done ;  namely,  that  with 
a  three-pound  stick  flourished  over  his  head, 
he  had  no  time  to  calculate  upon  a  "little  beat 
ing,"  and  that  in  the  surprise  of  the  moment, 
he  had  really  forgotten  to  calculate  the  chances 
of  profit  and  loss  from  giving  up  Mr.  Jeter's 
name. 

Truth  and  Justice  now  had  a  regular  set-to,  in 
the  columns  of  the  Gem;  which  very  soon  in 
volved  half  the  county  and  all  the  village,  for 
both  had  extensive  connections,  and  both  were 
very  popular. 

None  profited  by  the  contest  except  the  three 
Federalists.  They  went  over  in  a  body  to  the  side 
of  Truth,  where,  for  the  first  time  in  months, 
they  met  with  a  gracious  reception. 

Things  were  in  this  position,  when  a  gifted  son 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  29 

of  the  muses,  by  the  name  of  Quirk,  a  student  in 
Moore's  law  office,  favored  the  Gem  with  the  sub 
joined  racy  poetic  effusion.  It  is  necessary  to  a 
clear  understanding  of  it,  that  I  preface  it  with 
some  explanations. 

Mr.  Dodson  was  one  of  the  most  respectable, 
wealthy  and  influential  citizens  in  the  village. 
Mr.  Quirk,  father  of  the  poet,  was  in  all  respects 
his  equal.  Their  families  had  ever  been  upon 
terms  of  the  strictest  intimacy.  Charles,  the 
poet,  son  of  the  last,  had  paid  his  addresses  to 
Laura,  daughter  of  the  first,  but  without  success. 
While  he  was  chafed  with  disappointment,  and 
still  more  chafed  at  seeing  Doctor  Pillen  laying 
waste  all  his  hopes,  Miss  Laura  happened  to  re 
mark  that  Charles  Quirk  always  put  her  in  mind 
of  a  pair  of  tongs;  he  was  all  legs  and  no  body. 
At  another  time  she  said  it  was  an  old  maxim  that 
"All  lawyers  are  liars."  These  remarks  came  to 
the  ears  of  Mr.  Quirk,  whereupon  he  penned  the 
following : 

Does  Guara  Gobson  walk  the  street 

Just  to  show  her  pretty  feet? 

Or  does  she  ramble  up  and  down, 

Through  every  street  in  Natville  town, 

To  see  if  she  can  find  in  it, 

Some  one  on  whom  to  show  her  wit, 

In  Pitt-box  doctors  she  can  find, 

Everything  to  suit  her  mind ; 


io          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Though  bushy-headed,  lean  and  lank, 

With  whapper-jaw  and  bandy  shank; 

But  all  the  race  of  honest  squires, 

She  publishes  as  arrant  liars. 

But  this  witty  village  fair, 

Was  not  content  to  stop  just  there. 

E'en  lawyers'  "legs  and  bodies,"  she 

Makes  subject  of  her  raillery. 

And  in  the  midst  of  lady  throngs, 

Compares  them  to  "a  pair  of  tongs." 

I'd  say  to  this  sarcastic  Miss 

She'd  better  mind  her  business, 

Or  she  may  find  that  tongs  can  pinch 

Enough  to  make  a  lady  winch. 

After  Quirk  had  written  the  piece,  he  had  some 
misgivings  about  publishing  it;  and  he  deter 
mined  to  take  the  advice  in  the  matter  of  two 
other  law  students,  from  Mr.  Jeter's  office.  These 
were  Mr.  Coat  and  Mr.  Adams.  The  former  was 
delighted  with  the  piece,  and  insisted  upon  its 
being  published.  He  said  he  "considered  it 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  fit  and  proper  and 
just  and  equitable  defence  of  a  high-minded  and 
honorable  profession,  from  a  most  defamatory 
defamation, — that  no  one,  male  or  female,  had  a 
right  to  cast  such  reflections  upon  a  high-minded 
and  honorable  profession." 

Adams  protested  against  its  publication.  He 
said  it  would  be  cruel  and  unmanly  to  arraign  a 
lady  before  the  public  in  this  way ;  that  it  would 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  31 

be  attended  with  serious  consequences;  that  it 
was  too  direct,  personal  and  undisguised,  to  leave 
a  moment's  doubt  as  to  the  author,  or  the  object 
of  his  severity;  that  it  would  be  as  well  to  give 
the  young  lady's  name  in  full,  at  once,  as  to  give 
it  with  only  a  change  of  the  initials. 

"Well,"  rejoined  Coat,  "what  good  will  it  do 
if  nobody  knows  who's  meant?  And  if  she  didn't 
say  it,  what  right  has  she  to  take  it  to  herself? 
And  if  she  did,  oughtn't  she  to  understand  it? 
And  as  for  the  name,  there  is  a  very  great  differ 
ence  between  Laura  Dodson  and  Guara  Gobson. 
Suppose  you  were  to  sue  on  a  note  signed  Laura 
Dobson,  and  introduce  a  note  signed  Guara 
Gobson,  would  it  support  the  declaration?  It 
isn't  even  Idem  Sonans.  Give  it  to  me;  if  you 
won't  publish  it,  I  will, — if  I  can  get  it  in." 

The  debate  continued  too  long  to  be  followed. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  Quirk  finally  concluded  to 
give  it  to  Coat,  to  deal  with  it  as  he  pleased. 

Coat  took  it  to  Asaph,  who  refused  to  publish 
it;  but  upon  being  informed  by  the  bearer  that 
such  things  were  always  published  by  the  editors 
in  this  country,  and  seeing  that  in  the  main  it  was 
a  vindication  of  lawyers,  he  at  last  consented  to 
give  it  a  place  in  his  columns. 

As  soon  as  the  paper  that  contained  it  appeared, 


32  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

the  whole  village  was  in  an  uproar.  Fortunately 
for  Asaph,  it  fathered  itself  so  plainly,  that  there 
was  no  necessity  for  demanding  the  author.  Had 
there  been  any  room  for  doubt  on  this  head,  the 
tide  of  public  indignation  which  now  set  too 
strongly  against  Quirk  to  be  diverted  for  a  time, 
at  least,  would  have  been  turned  upon  him.  Coat, 
for  a  little  while  undertook  to  vindicate  Quirk, 
but  he  was  silenced  by  scoffs  and  hisses.  Quirk, 
after  stating  to  several  that  he  wrote  it  but  did 
not  publish  it,  retired  from  the  storm  into  the 
country.  It  was  soon  all  over  the  town,  that 
Coat  gave  it  publicity,  and  he  turned  public 
attention  from  Asaph,  until  he  retired.  There 
was  now  no  participant  in  the  sin  left,  but  Asaph ; 
but  the  people's  wrath  against  him  had  not  quite 
swelled  to  an  outbreak  before  his  next  paper  ap 
peared.  In  this,  he  made  a  humble  but  poorly- 
written  apology,  saying  he  had  been  misled  by 
Mr.  Coat; — and  closing  with  the  best  suasive 
that  he  knew  of  to  the  irritated  feelings  of  the 
Natvillians. 

The  first  of  the  apology  cooled  down  pub 
lic  indignation,  just  low  enough  to  save  Asaph's 
hide,  and  that  was  all.  Old  Mr.  Quirk  came  into 
town  in  deep  distress.  He  censured  his  son 
publicly,  as  he  had  done  privately,  and  did  every- 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  33 

thing  that  he  could  do,  to  make  amends  for  his 
son's  indiscretion;  but  as  it  is  universally  the 
case,  where  everybody  undertakes  a  cause,  some 
of  them  will  manage  it  badly,  so  it  was  in  this 
case.  Several  persons  most  wantonly  and  cruelly 
insulted  the  old  gentleman.  Though  he  was  a 
man  of  high  spirit,  he  did  not  attempt  to  avenge 
the  insults,  but  appealed  in  a  subdued  spirit  to 
the  people,  to  say  whether  his  son's  imprudences 
should  be  thus  visited  upon  his  gray  hairs.  This 
appeal  touched  the  sympathies  of  not  a  few,  who 
espoused  his  cause  warmly.  "They  did  not  pre 
tend  to  justify  the  attack  upon  Laura  Dobson, 
but  that  was  not  as  bad  as  insulting  a  gray- 
haired  man,  who  was  not  to  blame.  And,  after 
all,  Miss  Dobson  had  said  hard  things  about  Quirk, 
which  might  as  well  have  been  let  alone;  and 
then  there  would  have  been  no  difficulty.  But 
old  Mr.  Quirk  had  done  nothing  wrong ;  he  had 
not  even  defended  his  own  son,  but  was  doing  all 
he  could  to  make  amends  for  his  son's  fault,  when 
he  was  insulted  by  men  young  enough  to  have 
been  his  children." 

These  arguments  soon  divided  public  sentiment 
so  equally,  that  young  Quirk  considered  it  safe 
to  return  to  town.  He  came,  and  advancing  to  a 
crowd  of  gentlemen,  some  one  made  an  allusion 

3 


34  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

to  his  piece,  which  he  turned  to  a  good  account. 
He  said  he  was  sorry  he  had  written  it,  but  as  he 
did  not  publish  it,  he  thought  blame  enough  had 
been  attached  to  him.  But  whatever  his  fault 
might  be,  it  would  not  justify  people  in  abusing 
his  gray-haired  father.  He  was  ready  to  bear 
anything,  but  he  would  spend  his  last  drop  of 
blood  in  defence  of  his  father. 

This  harangue,  repeated  often  through  the  vil 
lage,  and  aided  by  the  friends  who  had  already 
espoused  his  father's  cause,  gained  over  to  the 
Quirk  side  nearly  half  the  village.  Such  was  the 
state  of  things  when  the  general  elections  came 
on.  No  doubt,  nine-tenths  of  the  county  would 
have  been  willing  to  have  postponed  the  elec 
tions  for  six  months  at  least ;  but  this  was  impos 
sible.  As  everybody  apprehended  a  dreadful 
fracas,  everybody  was  careful  to  avoid  it ;  conse 
quently,  though  the  canvass  was  hotter  than  it 
had  ever  been  before,  it  was  more  peaceable  than  it 
had  ever  been  before,  to  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  About  this  time  it  became  certain 
that  Jeter,  who  was  a  candidate,  and  who  had 
never  been  beaten  before,  was  now  to  be  beaten. 
The  Quirks  and  their  friends  were  on  his  side; 
the  Dobsons  and  Whatcuts  were  against  him; 
and  thus,  so  equally  balanced  were  the  parties, 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  35 

that  the  twenty  or  thirty  Federalists  in  the  county 
decided  the  contest.  Jeter  and  his  friends  were 
now  ripe  for  the  disappointed  candidate's  last 
resort, — a  general  row.  Nor  were  they  at  all 
appeased  by  certain  triumphant  shouts  which 
some  of  the  victors  sent  forth.  Things  were  just 
in  this  state,  when  Coat  was  seen  issuing  from 
West  Grocery,  under  the  emphatic  addresses  of 
a  bodiless  foot.  There  was  a  general  rush  to  the 
door,  to  ascertain  whom  the  said  foot  belonged  to, 
when  it  was  discovered  to  be  the  property  of 
Charles  Dob  son.  As  Coat  retired,  he  said  he 
would  demand  gentlemanly  satisfaction  of  Dob- 
son,  and  unfortunately  Dobson  replied, — "Send 
your  challenge  by  Quirk,  and  I'll  kick  him  too." 
Quirk  heard  this,  and  without  a  word  clinched 
Dobson.  As  Bob  Whatcut  advanced  to  the  com 
batants,  he  jerked  little  Billy  Pines,  a  Jeter  man, 
rudely  out  of  his  way;  whereupon  Billy  Jeter 
cried  out  with  a  loud  voice,  "  Boys,  the  ball's  open, 
— set  to  your  partners!"  and  led  off  an  Irish  jig 
with  Bob  Whatcut.  The  fight  now  became  gen 
eral,  and  no  pen  can  describe  it. 

As  there  is  no  labor  that  men  tire  of  sooner 
than  fighting,  the  row  was  of  short  duration.  It 
closed  with  a  singular  encounter.  Ned  White 
was  retiring  from  a  second  victory,  when  he  ob- 


36  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

served  one  of  the  Federalists  calmly  seated  apart 
from  the  crowd,  enjoying  the  sports  of  Republican 
ism;  and  stepping  up  to  him,  thus  accosted  him,— 

"And  what  are  you  doing  here  tin  whipped; 
you  Federal?" 

"  I'm  a  peaceable  man,"  said  the  other,  "  and — " 

"  You  are  a  hog !  Well,  as  I  go  in  for  my  threes 
to-day,  111  cool  off  on  you  anyhow." 

So  saying,  he  fell  aboard  the  peaceable  man, 
and  trounced  him  smartly.  This  conduct  of 
Ned  could  be  justified  only  on  the  ground,  that 
as  fighting  was  the  order  of  the  day,  neutrality 
was  treason;  or  that,  as  Republicans  must  needs 
be  whipped,  a  portion  of  Federalists  should  be. 

Mr.  Doolittle  had  looked  through  a  crack  of 
the  loft  of  his  printing  office,  on  the  scene  which  I 
have  described,  until  his  senses  became  bewil 
dered.  He  thought  it  advisable  to  seek  relief 
among  the  groves  around  the  village, — "where 
heavenly,  pensive  contemplation  dwelt."  Ac 
cordingly,  retiring  by  a  back  door,  and  passing 
over  three  fences,  he  entered  a  back  street,  by 
which  he  made  his  way  to  the  woods.  Taking 
his  seat  at  the  foot  of  an  aged  oak,  at  about 
twenty  rods  distance  from  a  public  road,  he  enter 
tained  himself  in  musing  upon  politics,  manners 
and  customs,  and  good  old  Connecticut. 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  37 

He  saw  a  number  of  groups  of  persons  with 
the  setting  sun, — he  saw,  as  he  supposed,  the  last 
go  by, — he  rose,  entered  the  road,  and  marched 
slowly  towards  the  village.  He  had  not  pro 
ceeded  far,  before  he  discovered  three  men  on 
horse-back  meeting  him.  He  dropped  his  hat  as  if 
in  deep  study,  and  moved  on.  Like  those  who  had 
gone  before  them,  they  were  talking  boisterously 
about  the  events  of  the  day.  As  they  passed 
Asaph,  one  of  them  observed, — "  Isn't  that  the 
printer,  that  has  kicked  up  all  the  fuss? " 

"Yes,"  said  Nat.  Whatcut,  "it's  the  very  man, 
and  just  hold  my  horse  a  moment,  till  I  do  a 
little  printing  on  his  hide." 

So  saying  he  dismounted,  and  advanced  upon 
Asaph  at  a  brisk  walk;  but  Asaph  walked  as 
briskly  as  he  did.  Whatcut  struck  a  trot,  and 
so  did  Asaph.  Whatcut  rose  to  the  top  of  his 
speed,  and  Asaph  did  the  same.  And  now  "they 
went  with  a  rush,"  amidst  the  whoops  of  the 
spectators.  Whatcut  soon  discovered  that  he 
was  overmatched,  and  gave  up  the  chase,  crying 
out  as  he  stopped,  "Never  mind,  old  fellow,  I'll 
see  you  to-morrow." 

"No,  you  won't,"  muttered  Asaph.  "If  you 
do  you  may  print  me  in  black  letter." 

Asaph  having  lingered  in  the  outskirts  of  the 


38  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

town  until  dark,  crept  sohly  by  a  back  way  to 
the  tavern.  The  boarders  were  at  supper,  and 
not  a  few  of  them  disfigured.  He  listened  for  a 
moment,  and  caught  a  single  sentence,  which 
determined  him  to  forego  his  supper  for  that 
evening. 

"Before  that  press  printer  came  here,  all  was 
peace  and  friendship;  but  ever  since  he  began  to 
send  out  his  mud  paper,  there's  been  nothing  but 
quarrelling  and  fighting;  and  if  nobody  else  will 
run  him  off,  I  will." 

Asaph  resumed  his  lonely  walk  until  late  at 
night,  when  observing  a  light  in  Mr.  Moore's 
office,  he  crept  softly  to  the  window,  and  finding 
the  squire  alone,  he  tapped  at  the  door.  The 
squire  went  to  the  door,  when  Asaph  saluted  him, 
and  begged  him  to  blow  out  the  candle.  This 
done,  he  entered  and  took  a  seat. 

"Major,"  says  he,  "I'm  thinking  I'd  better  be 
missing  from  here,  as  soon  as  old  Roan  can  take 
me  off." 

"Why,  yes,  Asaph,"  returned  Moore,  "there's 
great  excitement  against  you.  Almost  every 
man  who  has  been  whipped  to-day,  swears  he'll 
whip  you;  and  I  think  you  had  better  leave  the 
village  for  a  week  or  two,  at  least,  until  the  ex 
citement  is  over,  and  then  return." 


THE  VILLAGE  EDITOR  39 

"So  I'm  thinking;  but  how  to  arrange  matters 
with  Mr.  Gibbs, — and  how  to  get  money  to  bear 
my  expenses— 

"Oh,  never  mind  that,"  says  Moore.  "Take 
Quirk's  bed  there  to-night;  I'll  make  things  easy 
with  Gibbs,  and  have  your  horse  here  two  hours 
before  daylight  in  the  morning,  and  furnish  you 
the  means  of  getting  on." 

"Well,  Major,  your  goodness  makes  me  feel 
worse  than  I  have  all  day;  and  I  have  had  such 
feelings  to-day,  as  I  never  had  before.  I  shall 
never  come  back  after  I  start,  Major — and  I  was 
thinking  to  give  you  a  full  power  of  attorney,  to 
deal  with  my  debts  and  effects  as  you  think  right. 
I  know  you'll  deal  justly  by  me.  I  should  like 
to  save  my  printing  materials,  as  they  are  all  I'm 
worth ;  but  if  it  be  necessary  to  sell  them  to  make 
you  whole,  sell  them,  and— 

"No,  Asaph,  I  shall  not  sell  them,  if  I  never 
get  paid.  Say  where  they  shall  be  sent  to,  and 
I  will  have  them  carefully  packed  up  and  for 
warded  to  you  by  the  first  wagon." 

Augusta  was  named.  Asaph  remained  silent 
a  minute  or  two,  obviously  deeply  affected  by  the 
Major's  kindness.  At  length  he  proceeded :  "  You 
people  of  Georgia  are  a  very  strange  people.  You 
are  the  most  liberal,  generous-hearted  people  I 


4o  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

ever  saw,  when  you  are  in  a  good  humor;  but 
when  you  get  mad,  you  fight  like  all  natur,  and 
it  seems  to  make  no  odds  who.  I  can't  make 
these  things  dovetail  at  all." 

The  curtains  were  dropped,  the  candle  lighted, 
the  power  of  attorney  executed,  and  two  hours 
before  day  Asaph's  horse  was  at  the  door,  with 
portmanteau  on;  and  before  sunrise  he  had 
passed  the  county  line.  In  a  week  after,  his 
printing  materials  and  trunk  were  on  the  way  to 
Augusta. 

The  village  was  completely  revolutionized.  The 
street  meetings  were  broken  up,  the  social  par 
ties  discontinued,  and  many  long  years  passed 
away  before  the  citizens  of  Natville  returned  to 
their  former  friendship.  They  probably  never 
would  have  done  so,  had  not  a  revival  occurred  in 
the  place,  which  embraced  almost  every  inhab 
itant.  Thus  religion  banished  enmity  from  all 
hearts,  united  them  in  love,  and  gave  them  a 
nobler  theme  than  politics  for  conversation — and 
constituted  them  a  brotherhood,  that  neither  poli 
tics  nor  newspapers  nor  time  could  sever. 


II. 

THE  OLD  SOLDIERS, 

A    NARRATIVE. 

On  a  calm  summer's  afternoon,  at  the  door  of  a 
humble  but  comfortable  log  dwelling,  sat  the  ven 
erable  John  Chavers.  He  had  done  much  service 
in  the  war  that  won  our  liberty;  but  liberty  was 
nearly  all  that  he  gained  by  it.  A  private  in  the 
ranks,  he  retired  from  the  field  with  no  other 
worldly  estate  than  a  little  continental  money 
and  a  small  farm  but  poorly  improved.  His  first 
wife  died  soon  after  the  war;  and  he  married  a 
second,  fifteen  years  younger  than  himself.  By 
both  he  had  children,  but  some  had  died,  and  all 
the  rest  had  married  and  left  him,  at  the  time  of 
which  I  am  speaking.  While  his  strength  re 
mained,  he  exerted  an  honest  industry,  and  thus 
managed  to  keep  his  family  above  want ;  and  now 
that  it  had  deserted  him,  a  small  pension  from  the 
government  and  the  labor  of  two  servants  sup 
plied  the  demands  of  his  waning  life.  Some  of  his 
sons  had  served  in  the  War  of  1812,  but  the  old 
man  gave  them  little  credit  for  it;  "because,"  as 

(41) 


42  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

he  used  to  say,  "that  was  mere  child's  play  com 
pared  with  the  old  war.  No  Tories  in  your  day, 
boys, — no  prison  ships.  March  out  with  your 
bright  muskets  and  bayonets  all  furnished  to  your 
hand — wagons  following  loaded  with  good  fat 
rations — canteens  full,  good  clothes  on,  march 
where  you  please  without  danger,  sleep  soundly 
all  night  in  your  tents  without  fear  of  being  waked 
by  bullet  or  tomahawk — pshaw;  a  mere  frolic! 
You  ought  to  have  lived  in  the  parched-corn  and 
tory  times,  when  bare-footed  and  in  rags,  we 
bogued  thro'  thickets  and  cane-brakes,  and  mud 
and  swamps,  wet  or  dry,  hot  or  cold,  with  an  old 
Indian-trader  or  rusty  shot  gun  in  our  hands,  that 
made  three  snaps  and  one  flash  to  a  fire.  Then 
go  to  sleep  on  a  bed  of  grass  or  dirt  to  the  music  of 
wolves  and  owls ;  sometimes  in  sight  of  your  own 
house,  which  you  dare  not  enter  for  fear  that  you'd 
never  get  out  again  till  the  traitors  flung  you  out. 
Polly,  there,  can  tell  you — no,  she  was  'most  too 
young  to  recollect  much  about  it;  but  Nancy 
could  have  told  you  something  of  those  days. 
Look  at  the  spoon-handle  in  the  little  pine  box 
on  the  top  of  the  buffet;  that'll  tell  you  a  story 
about  hard  times.  Polly  won't  believe  that  story 
about  the  spoon-handle;  but,  there  it  is,  and  it 
speaks  for  itself.  If  it  wasn't  so,  what  did  I  make 


THE  OLD  SOLDIERS  43 

the  box  to  put  it  in  for? — And  what  do  I  take  it 
down  and  look  at  it  every  Fourth  of  July  for?— 
Bill  Darden  was  there,  and  John  Taylor  was  there, 
and  Arch  Martin  was  there;  but,  poor  fellows, 
they've  all  gone  and  left  me,  long  ago,  I  reckon." 
But  the  old  man  had  for  years  ceased  to  talk 
thus,  and  for  the  best  of  reasons,  namely,  that  he 
found  nobody  to  talk  to.  The  young  seldom 
visited  him,  and  the  old  of  his  neighborhood— 
alas!  compared  with  him,  there  were  none.  His 
iron  constitution  had  struggled  manfully  with 
Time;  but  the  conqueror  of  all  had  overpowered 
him,  and  doomed  him  to  perpetual  confinement 
to  his  dwelling  and  its  inclosure.  There  is  one 
from  whom  time  cannot  banish  us,  from  whose 
presence  prisons  cannot  seclude  us.  This  one 
lingered  with  the  old  soldier  in  his  solitude,  and 
made  calm  and  peaceful  the  twilight  of  his  life. 
He  had  just  been  tottering  round  his  little  garden, 
when  he  took  his  seat  at  the  door  where  I  intro 
duced  him  to  the  reader.  The  sun  was  just 
setting,  when  on  the  highway  that  led  by  his 
house,  he  observed  an  aged  foot-passenger  ap 
proaching.  Slow  and  trembling  were  the  foot 
steps  of  the  stranger.  When  within  about  twenty 
rods  of  the  house,  he  stopped,  leaned  for  a  moment 
upon  his  walking  stick,  then  lifting  his  hat,  drew 


44  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

from  it  a  handkerchief,  or  what  served  its  purpose, 
and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow. 

"Poor  old  man!"  said  Chavers,  as  he  looked  on 
the  bending  form  and  snow-crowned  head  of 
the  traveler.  "Where  can  he  be  going?  Beg 
ging,  I  suppose!" 

The  stranger  advanced,  and  seating  himself  on 
the  step  of  the  door,  drew  a  deep  sigh  and  said, 
"Can  an  old  revolutionary  soldier,  who  has  nothing 
to  pay,  get  supper  and  lodging— 

"Yes,  old  man,"  interrupted  Chavers.  "That's 
a  countersign  that  passes  any  man  to  my  table, 
bed  and  heart.  Get  up,  old  man,  get  up — that's 
no  place  for  an  old  Seventy -sixer — give  me 
your  hand,  and  I'll  help  you  in  as  well  as  I  can, 
though  I'm  but  poor  help.  Polly,  hand  the  old 
man  a  chair,  for  he  seems  almost  done  over." 

"And  indeed,  so  I  am,"  said  the  guest;  "these 
sandy  roads  don't  suit  such  old  limbs  as  mine." 

"And  what  makes  you  take  the  road  at  your  age, 
old  man?  Old  folks,  like  we,  ought  to  stay  in 
doors,  lest  death  find  us  where  friends  can't." 

"That's  true,  friend,  but  we  can't  always  do 
what  we  ought  to  do,  or  wish  to  do.  I  have  been 
living  with  my  son  for  many  years,  but  he  has 
lately  died,  leaving  a  large  family  and  nothing  to 
feed  them  on;  for  though  he  worked  hard,  and  I 


THE  OLD  SOLDIERS  45 

helped  him  all  I  could,  yet  he  died  very  poor. 
His  wife's  kinsfolk  sent  for  her  away  West  some 
where,  and  I  concluded  to  try  to  get  to  my  grand 
daughter's,  who  is  married  and  settled  about 
thirty  miles  below  here;  but,  it  seems  to  me,  I 
shall  hardly  ever  get  there,  at  the  rate  I  get 
along.  My  strength's  gone — my  strength's  gone, 
friend ;  I  can't  travel  now  as  I  once  could— 

"I  know  very  well  how  to  believe  that.  But 
how  do  you  get  along  without  money  in  these 
close-fisted  times." 

"Oh,  mighty  well,  mighty  well.  I  generally 
tell  the  people  where  I  stop,  beforehand,  that  I've 
no  money,  but  that  I  am  an  old  soldier,  and  this, 
with  my  white  head,  always  gets  kind  treatment. 
I  haven't  found  but  one  man  that  turned  me  off; 
and  I  didn't  mind  that  much,  as  I  hadn't  far  to  go 
before  I  found  a  better;  but  he  called  me  an 
impostor,  and  that  was  the  hardest  saying  I've 
had  to  bear  for  these  thirty  years— 

"The  rascal!  Why  didn't  you  give  him  your 
stick?" 

"Oh,  God  bless  your  soul,  I  had  better  use  for 
my  stick.  It  doesn't  become  old  men  like  us  to 
use  sticks  except  to  walk  with.  Besides,  I  am 
trying  to  get  to  a  country  where  none  but  the 
peaceable  can  go." 


46  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"You're  right,  old  man — you're  right  and  I'm 
wrong ;"  said  Chavers,  as  he  drew  his  sleeve  across 
his  eyes.  "And  you  say  that  you  are  a  revo 
lutionary  soldier; — whom  did  you  serve  under!" 

"Well,  now,  I  can't  say  that  I  was  much  in  the 
regular  army,  though  I  did  some  little  there,  too. 
My  service  was  mostly  against  the  Tories,  and  it 
doesn't  seem  much  thought  of  in  these  days,  yet  it 
ought  to  be,  for,  I  tell  you,  I  have  seen  some  as 
tough  times  as  any  in  the  regular  army  ever  saw ; 
and  made  some  as  narrow  escapes  as  any  made 
during  the  war." 

"Well,  suppose  you  tell  us  one,  for  it's  a  long 
time  since  I've  heard  any  one  talk  about  the  old 
war,  that  was  in  it." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  one  of  the  narrowest  I  ever 
made.  There  were  some  forty  or  fifty  of  us  once 
in  pursuit  of  a  gang  of  Tories,  and  a  little  before 
sunset  we  came  within  a  few  miles  of  where  we 
heard  that  they  had  encamped.  We  stopped  at  a 
branch,  and  our  captain  told  us  to  fix  up  our  guns 
and  refresh  ourselves  as  well  as  we  could  (for  we 
had  precious  little  to  refresh  with,  besides  water), 
and  that  about  the  time  of  sound  sleep,  we  would 
march  down  upon  them  and  give  them  rations. 
While  we  were  here  there  came  a  man  to  us  and 
told  Captain  Ryan—" 


THE  OLD  SOLDIERS  47 

"Told  who?" 

"Told  Captain  Ryan,  Captain  John  Ryan — we 
were  under  him — that  the  Tories  were  to  have  a 
great  dancing  frolic  at  Smith's  tavern  that  night, 
and  that  if  we'd  come  upon  them  before  they 
broke  up,  we  might  take  or  kill  the  whole  of  them. 
Well,  soon  after  dark  we  pushed  forward,  and  as 
we  neared  the  tavern,  sure  enough,  we  heard  them 
fiddling  and  dancing  in  high  glee.  'Boys,'  said 
Captain  Ryan,  'we've  got  'em  safe  enough.'  He 
divided  us  into  two  parties  and  told  us  to  march  in 
a  body  to  within  about  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
house,  and  then  separate,  and  one  party  to  take 
the  back  door  and  the  other  the  front  door,  at 
the  same  time.  On  we  pushed,  very  softly  and 
briskly,  fiddle  playing  and  feet  thumping,  until 
we  got  within  five  steps  of  the  doors,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  out  went  the  lights,  and  pop,  pop,  we  were 
fired  upon  on  all  sides.  Bless  your  soul,  friend, 
such  slaughter  as  they  made  of  us  you  never  saw. 
They  wounded  Captain  Ryan  badly  in  the  shoul 
der,  and  killed  or  took  prisoners  nearly  every  one 
of  us—" 

"And  how  did  you  get  out  of  the  scrape?" 

"I  and  three  or  four  more  were  taken  prisoners 
and  put  on  board  a  prison-ship ;  and  there  we  saw 
tough  times,  I  tell  you." 


48  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Did  anything — did  anything  uncommon  hap 
pen  while  you  were  on  board  that  ship?" 

"Why,  yes,  friend,  one  of  the  strangest  things 
that  I  reckon  ever  did  happen,  but  I'm  a 'most 
afraid  to  tell  it,  for  fear  you  will  not  believe  me; 
but  it's  just  as  true  as  that  you  sit  in  that  chair; 
and  since  you've  brought  it  up  I'll  tell  it  to  you — " 

'Tolly,  give  me  a  drink  of  water,  if  you  please — 
no,  sit  still!" 

"One  day  while  we  prisoners  were  all  seated 
round  a  tray  of  mush  (for  that  was  about  all  we 
got  to  eat),  a  thunder  cloud  passed  over  us,  and 
just  as  the  man  opposite  to  me  was  raising  his 
spoon  to  his  mouth,  there  came  a  flash  of  light 
ning  and  cut  the  handle  right  off  at  the  bowl,  and 
didn't  hurt  any  of  us." 

"The  Lord  help  my  soul!"  exclaimed  Polly. 

"I  know  it's  hard  to  believe,  ma'am,  but  it's 
every  word  true,  as  sure  as  you  live." 

"I  believe— " 

"Hush, Polly!"  interrupted Chavers.  "Stranger, 
do  you  remember  the  name  of  the  man  that  held 
that  spoon?" 

"Why  I'm  not  so  sure  I  can  call  it  now — but  I 
think  it  was  Shivers  or  Chivers,  or  some  such 


name — 

"Was  it  Chavers?" 


THE  OLD  SOLDIERS  49 

"That's  the  very  name!"  said  the  stranger, 
slapping  his  thigh  with  a  force  disproportioned  to 
his  strength. 

' '  Why— why— Taylor ! '  '  exclaimed  Chavers 
rising—  "Is  that  you?" 

"Chavers!" 

"Taylor!—" 

The  old  men  embraced,  but  their  emotions  were 
too  powerful  for  their  strength,  and  they  sank 
together  to  the  floor.  When  they  rose,  Polly  was 
standing  by  them  with  the  pine  box  in  her 
hand,  and  her  apron  to  her  eyes. 


III. 

"DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN." 

I  well  remember  the  first  man  who,  without  any 
qualifications  for  the  place,  was  elected  to  the 
Legislature  of  Georgia.  He  was  a  blacksmith  by 
trade,  and  Darby  Anvil  was  his  name.  I  would 
not  be  understood  as  saying  that  none  had  pre 
ceded  him  but  men  of  profound  wisdom  or  even 
notable  talents  (at  the  time  of  which  I  am  speak 
ing  such  men  were  not  to  be  found  in  every  county 
of  the  State),  but  that  none  had  been  deputed  to 
that  body  who  were  not  vastly  superior  to  Anvil 
in  every  moral  and  intellectual  quality. 

Darby  came  hither  just  at  the  close  of  the  Rev 
olutionary  War;  and,  if  his  own  report  of  himself 
is  to  be  believed,  " he  fit"  in  that  memorable  strug 
gle.  True,  he  never  distinctly  stated  on  which 
side  "he  fit;"  but  as  he  spoke  freely  of  the  inci 
dents  of  the  revolution,  and  at  a  time  when  Tories 
were  very  scarce  and  very  mute,  it  was  taken  for 
granted  that  he  fought  on  the  right  side. 

Darby  established  himself  upon  a  lot  in  the  then 

village  of ,  which  cost  him  nothing ;  for  in  his 

day  town  lots,  and  even  large  tracts  of  land,  were 

(so) 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN          51 

granted  to  any  one  who  would  occupy  them  for  a 
given  time.  Two  log  huts  soon  rose  upon  Darby's 
lot,  into  one  of  which  he  stowed  his  wife  and  chil 
dren,  and  in  the  other  his  blacksmith's  tools.  He 
now  plied  his  trade  assiduously ;  and  as  all  trades 
flourished  at  that  time,  he  grew  rich  apace.  A 
year  had  hardly  rolled  away  before  a  snug  frame 
house  rose  in  front  of  his  log  dwelling,  and  his 
shop  gave  place  to  one  of  more  taste  and  conve 
nience  from  the  hands  of  a  carpenter.  The  brand 
of  horse-shoes  upon  the  shop-door  no  longer  served 
Darby  for  a  sign;  but  high  over  the  entrance  of 
the  smithery,  from  a  piece  of  iron-work  of  crooks 
and  convolutions  unutterable,  hung  a  flaming  sign 
board,  decorated  on  either  side  with  appropriate 
designs.  On  one  side  was  Darby  in  person,  shoe 
ing  Gen.  Washington's  horse.  I  say  it  was  Wash- 
ington's  horse  because  Darby  said  so,  and  Billy 
Spikes,  who  painted  it,  said  so.  Certainly,  it  was 
large  enough  for  Washington's  horse;  for,  taking 
Darby,  whose  height  I  knew,  for  a  gauge,  the  horse 
could  not  have  been  less  than  five  and  twenty  feet 
high.  On  the  other  side  was  a  plow,  with  handles 
nine  feet  long  (by  the  same  measure),  studded 
with  hoes  and  axes,  staples  and  horse-shoes. 

Everything   around  Darby  bore  the  aspect  of 
thrift  and  comfort — in  short,  his  fortune  increased 


52  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

even  faster  than  his  children;  and  this  is  no 
small  compliment  to  his  industry  and  economy,  for 
Mrs.  Anvil  had  not  for  many  years  suffered  eight 
een  months  to  pass  without  reminding  him,  with 
a  blush  through  a  smirk,  that  she  would  "soon 
want  a  little  sugar  and  coffee  and  sweetened  dram 
for  the  little  stranger.1'  Darby  had  just  received 
the  tenth  notice  of  this  kind  when  he  resolved  to 
turn  politician.  Whether  the  notices  had  any 
influence  upon  him  in  forming  this  rash  resolution, 
I  am  not  prepared  to  say ;  but  certain  it  is  that  he 
had  received  them,  for  several  years  preceding, 
with  a  rapidly  declining  interest,  insomuch  that, 
when  the  last  came,  it  gave  to  his  countenance  an 
expression  better  suited  to  dyspepsia  than  to  such 
joyous  tidings;  and  he  was  proceeding  to  make  a 
most  uncourteous  response,  when  the  kindling  fire 
of  his  lady's  eye  brought  him  to  an  ant i -climax  of 
passive  gentility. 

"  Why,  Nancy, "  said  he,  "  Lord  'a'  massy  on  my 
soul!  I  don't  grudge  you  the  rum  and  coffee  and 
sugar,  but  r'aly  it  does  seem  to  me — that — we're 
havin'  a  powerful  chance  o'  childern  somehow  or 
'nother." 

I  am  digressing  a  little,  but  I  cannot  resume  my 
subject  without  doing  Mrs.  Anvil  the  justice  to  say 
that  she  defended  her  dignity  with  becoming  spirit, 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  5J 

and  by  a  short  but  pungent  syllogism  taught 
Darby  that  he  had  more  cause  for  self-condemna 
tion  than  for  grudgings  or  astonishment. 

Darby  Anvil,  though  ignorant  in  the  extreme, 
had  some  shrewdness  and  much  low  cunning.  He 
knew  well  the  prejudices  and  weaknesses  of  the 
common  people  of  the  country,  and  had  no  little 
tact  in  turning  them  to  his  own  advantage. 

Two  attorneys  of  eminence  who  had  repeatedly 
served  the  State  in  her  deliberative  assemblies 
during  and  after  the  war  were  candidates  for  the 
popular  branch  of  the  Legislature  when  Darby 
determined  to  make  a  third  and  supernumerary 
candidate.  He  announced  his  aims  in  the  only 
way  in  which  he  could  have  announced  them  with 
out  exposing  himself  to  overwhelming  ridicule ;  for 
the  people  of  those  days  pretty  generally  harbored 
the  superstitious  notion  that  talents  were  indispen 
sable  to  wholesome  legislation. 

There  was  a  great  barbecue  in  the  county.  It 
was  the  wager  of  a  hunting  watch,  and  conse 
quently  everybody  was  invited  and  everybody 
attended.  During  the  festival,  when  Darby  and 
ten  or  twelve  of  his  own  class  were  collected  round 
the  bottle,  "Boys,"  said  he,  "how  'bout  the  'lec 
tion  this  year?" 

"O,"  says  one,  "there's  no  opposition." 


54  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"No  opposition!"  cried  Darby,  "by  zounds, 
that'll  never  do.  We'll  have  no  fun.  I'll  be 
ding'd  if  I  don't  offer  myself  if  I  can't  git  a  smarter 
man  to  offer,  rather  than  have  no  fun  at  all. 
What  do  you  say,  Bill  Rucker?  Won't  you  go  in 
for  the  old  blacksmith  ag'inst  the  lawyers?" 
smiling  and  winking  to  the  by-standers. 

"O  yes, "  said  Bill  carelessly,  "  I'll  go  in  for  you 
to  a  red  heat." 

"Well,  thar's  one  vote  for  the  old  blacksmith, 
anyhow." 

"  Johnny,  you'll  stick  to  Uncle  Darby  ag'n  the 
lawyers,  I  know;  won't  you,  Johnny?" 

"Yes,"  said  Johnny  Fields,  "I'll  stick  to  you 
like  grim  death  to  a  dead  nigger. " 

"Jimmy  Johns  '11  go — O  no!  I've  no  chance  of 
Jimmy's  vote ;  bein'  as  how  he's  a  mighty  takin'  to 
lawyers  since  his  brother  Bob'-s  case  was  try'n.  How 
'bout  that,  Jimmy?"  with  a  dry,  equivocal  laugh. 

"Blast  their  infernal  souls!"  said  Jim,  "I'd 
vote  for  the  devil  'fore  I'd  vote  for  either  of  'em. 
They  made  out  my  evidence  was  nothin'  't  all  but 
swearin'  lies  for  brother  Bob  from  one  end  to 
t'other." 

"Well,  Jimmy,"  pursued  Darby,  "you  mustn't 
mind  Uncle  Darby's  laughin',  my  son,  I  can't  help 
laughin'  every  time  I  think  how  mad  you  was  when 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  55 

you  come  to  my  shop  that  day ;  but  you  know  I 
told  you  you'd  git  over  it  and  vote  for  the  'squires 
at  last,  didn't  I?" 

"  Yes,  and  you  told  a  lie,  too ;  didn't  you,  Uncle 
Darby?" 

Here  Darby  roared  immoderately  and  then, 
becoming  suddenly  very  grave,  he  proceeded: 
"  But,  boys,  puttin'  all  jokin'  away,  it's  wrong, 
mighty  wrong,  for  anybody  to  be  puttin'  upon 
anybody's  character  after  that  sort,  I  don't  care 
who  they  is.  And  if  I  was  in  the  Legislater  the 
fust  thing  I'd  do  would  be  to  stop  it. " 

"Well,  Uncle  Darby,  why  don't  you  offer? " 
said  Johns.  "I'll  go  for  you,  and  there's  plenty 
more'll  go  for  you  if  you'll  come  out. " 

"Yes,  that  there  is,"  said  Job  Snatch  (another 
sufferer  in  court).  "  I'll  go  for  you. " 

"And  so  will  I,"  said  Seth  Weed. 

"  Why,  boys, "  interrupted  Darby,  "  if  you  don't 
hush,  you'll  make  me  come  out  sure  enough.  And 
what  would  I  do  in  the  'sembly?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  you'd  do,"  said  Sam  Flat 
crustily,  "  you'd  set  up  in  one  corner  of  the  room 
like  poor  folks  at  a  frolic  and  never  open  your 
mouth.  And  I '11  tell  you  another  thing — my  opin 
ion  is,  you  want  to  offer,  too;  and  you're  only 
fishin'  for  an  excuse  to  do  it  now." 


56  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Darby  burst  into  a  loud  laugh;  but  there  was 
enough  chagrin  mingled  with  it  to  show  plainly 
that  he  felt  the  truth  of  Sam's  remark.  It  was 
near  a  minute  before  he  could  reply:  "O  no, 
Sammy,  I've  no  notion  of  offerin',  unless  it  mout 
be  just  to  have  a  little  fun.  And  if  I  was  to  offer 
what  harm  would  it  do?  I  couldn't  be  'lected; 
and  if  I  wasn't  I  wouldn't  care,  for  it  wouldn't 
be  no  disgrace  for  a  poor  blacksmith  to  be  beat 
by  the  great  folks  that's  beat  everybody. " 

"Well/'  said  Jimmy  Johns,  "may  I  say  you's 
a  candidate?" 

"Jimmy,  you  is  a  free  man  and  has  a  right  to 
say  what  you  please." 

"And  I'm  a  free  man,  and  I'll  say  what  I  please, 
too/'  said  Job  Snatch. 

"And  so  am  I,"  said  Seth  Weed. 

"Why,  what's  got  into  these  boys?"  chuckled 
out  Darby ;  "  I  b'lieve  they're  gwine  to  make  me  a 
cand'date  whether  I  will  or  no.  I  didn't  know  I 
had  so  much  pop'larity.  Let  me  git  away  from 
here  or  I'll  be  made  a  great  man  in  spite  of  myself. 
But  I  must  take  a  drink  before  I  go.  Come,  boys, 
le's  take  a  drink,  and  I'll  give  you  a  toast : 

"Here's  wishin'  that  honest  men  who's  'blige  to  go  to  court 

to  swear 
May  not  be  'lowed  to  be  made  game  of  by  lawyers  of  the 

bare." 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  57 

This  sentiment,  like  many  electioneering  ha 
rangues  of  equal  merit  in  the  present  day,  was 
received  "  with  unbounded  applause ;"  and  amidst 
laughter  and  entreaties  fora  repetition  of  the  toast, 
Darby  hastened  away  to  a  small  party  of  marks 
men  who  had  made  up  a  match  and  were  trying 
their  skill  apart  from  the  throng.  To  these  he 
made  himself  obsequious,  while  his  friends  spread 
the  news  of  his  candidacy.  It  soon  pervaded  the 
whole  assembly,  and  many  went  to  him  to  know 
the  truth  of  the  report.  His  answers  to  such  were 
regulated  by  the  tone  and  manner  with  which  they 
put  their  questions.  If  they  exhibited  no  aston 
ishment,  he  told  them  that  "  he  had  tried  to  git  off, 
but  his  friends  kept  plaguin'  him  so  to  offer  that  he 
was  'bliged  to  give  up  or  make  'em  all  mad ;  and 
therefore,  he  told  'em  they  mout  do  as  they 
pleased. "  If  the  inquirer  exhibited  signs  of  won 
der  and  incredulity,  Darby  gave  him  an  affirmative 
with  all  the  tokens  of  irony.  Amongst  the  rest 
came  Smith  and  Jones,  the  two  candidates.  They 
happened  to  meet  him  just  as  he  was  returning  to 
the  crowd  from  the  shoot  ing -match  and  when  no 
person  was  with  him. 

"Darby,"  inquired  Smith,  "is  it  possible  that 
you  are  a  candidate  for  the  Legislature"? 

"Why  not?"  returned  Anvil,  with  a  blush. 


S8  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"  Why,  you  are  utterly  unqualified ;  you  will  dis 
grace  yourself/' 

"I  know,"  rejoined  Anvil,  "that  I'd  make  a 
mighty  poor  spout  of  speakin'  ag'in  lawyers,  but  I 
reckon  as  how  I  could  vote  as  good  as  them. " 

"You  are  mistaken,  Darby,"  said  Jones;  "it 
requires  a  better  head  to  vote  right  than  to  speak 
well.  The  business  of  law-making  is  a  very  deli 
cate  business,  which  should  be  managed  with  the 
nicest  care,  especially  in  this  country.  It  is  true 
that  it  has  been  much  simplified  in  the  several 
States  by  our  admirable  form  of  government.  A 
vast  variety  of  subjects,  and  those,  too,  which  the 
people  at  large  are  generally  best  acquainted  with, 
have  been  withdrawn  from  the  State  Legislature. 
But  still  the  States  are  sovereign,  and  possess  all 
power  not  specially  delegated  to  the  general  gov 
ernment —  " 

"You  should  have  said,"  interrupted  Smith, 
"that  the  State  legislation  has  been  diminished 
rather  than  that  it  has  been  simplified.  In  truth, 
it  has  been  rendered  more  intricate  by  our  novel 
form  of  government.  In  other  countries  the  law 
giver  has  only  to  study  the  interests  of  the  people 
and  legislate  accordingly ;  but  here,  in  addition  to 
the  ordinary  duties  of  a  legislator,  he  has  others  of 
infinite  difficulty  and  infinite  importance  to  dis- 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  S9 

charge.  He  is  one  of  the  guardians  of  a  State 
which  is  both  sovereign  and  subject — sovereign  by 
Constitution,  subject  by  concession.  He  must 
consider  well,  therefore,  the  powers  which  she  has 
ceded,  and  yield  implicit  obedience  to  them;  he 
must  study  well  the  powers  which  she  has  reserved, 
and  fearlessly  maintain  them.  An  error  on  the 
one  hand  is  a  step  toward  anarchy ;  an  error  on  the 
other  is  a  step  toward  slavery — ' 

"Why,"  interrupted  Darby,  "I  don't  under 
stand  head  nor  tail  of  all  this  sarment." 

41 1  was  not  addressing  myself  to  you,"  said 
Smith,  "though  I  confess  that  what  I  was  saying 
was  meant  for  your  improvement.  I  was  in  hopes 
you  would  understand  enough  of  it  to  discover 
your  unfitness  for  the  Legislature. " 

"I  think,"  said  Jones,  "I  can  convince  Darby 
of  that  in  a  more  intelligent  way." 

11  Darby,  what  does  a  man  go  to  the  Legislature 
for?" 

"Why,  to  make  laws,"  said  Darby. 

"True;  and  to  amend  such  as  have  been  made. 
Now,  do  you  know  what  laws  have  been  made?" 

"No." 

"  Do  you  know  how  those  have  operated  which 
have  been  made?" 

11  Operated?11 


60  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"  I  mean  do  you  know  whether  they  have  proved 
good  or  bad?" 

"No,  I  tell  you;  I  don't  know  nothin'  't  all 
about  'em." 

"  Well,  now  suppose  a  man  should  come  to  your 
shop  and  offer  to  work  for  you  a  month — at  plow- 
making  we  will  suppose — and  when  you  asked  him 
if  he  understood  making  such  plows  as  are  used  in 
Georgia  he  should  reply  that  he  knew  nothing  at 
all  about  plows,  his  whole  life  had  been  spent  in 
shoe-making ;  but  that  if  you  would  lay  two  plows 
before  him  he  could  tell  you  which  he  thought  best ; 
and  that  whenever  you  wanted  his  opinion  or  vote 
upon  shop  matters  he  could  give  it  as  good  as  any 
one.  What  would  you  think  of  him?" 

"Then,  'cordin'  to  your  chat,  nobody  ought  to 
go  to  'sembly  but  lawyers, "  said  Darby. 

"I  do  not  say  so;  but  that  no  one  should  go 
there  who  has  not  some  little  knowledge  of  the 
business  which  he  has  to  do.  If  he  possess  this 
knowledge,  it  matters  not  whether  he  be  lawyer, 
farmer,  merchant,  or  mechanic. " 

By  this  time  quite  a  crowd,  mostly  unlettered 
persons,  had  collected  round  the  candidates,  and 
though  it  was  impossible  for  Darby  to  hide  his 
chagrin  while  he  and  his  companions  were  alone, 
it  became  less  and  less  visible  with  every  accession 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  61 

to  the  group,  so  that  by  the  time  Mr.  Jones  con 
cluded  his  remarks  it  was  entirely  dissipated,  and 
Darby  stood  before  the  company  decidedly  the 
most  self-confident  of  the  three. 

"Well,"  said  he,  planting  himself  astraddle  and 
placing  his  arms  akimbo,  "now  I've  heard  you  all 
through,  let  me  see  how  the  old  blacksmith  can 
argify  with  two  lawyers  at  a  time.  I  know  I'm 
nothin'  but  a  poor,  ign'ant  blacksmith  that  don't 
know  nothin'  nohow;  and  furthermore,  I  don't 
think  nobody  ought  to  go  to  the  'sembly  but 
lawyers  nether,  bein'  as  how  they're  the  smartest 
people  in  the  world.  But  howsomedever,  that's 
n'ither  here  nor  thar.  Now,  Mr.  Smith,  you  say 
I'd  disgrace  myself  to  go  to  the  'sembly,  and  I 
reckon  it's  so,  for  I'm  like  my  neighbors  here,  hard- 
workin'  people,  who  ha'n't  got  no  business  doin' 
nothin'  but  workin'  for  great  folks  and  rich  folks, 
nohow.  But  howsomedever,  that's  n'ither  here 
nor  thar,  as  the  fellow  said.  Now,  I  want  to  ax 
you  a  few  questions,  and  you  mus'n't  git  mad  with 
me,  for  I  only  want  to  git  a  little  1'arnin'.  And 
firstly  of  the  first  place,  to  begin  at  the  beginnin', 
as  the  fellow  said,  an't  a  poor  man  as  free  as  a  rich 
man?"  winking,  with  a  smirk  to  the  approving 
by-standers. 

"Certainly,"  said  Smith. 


62  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"And  didn't  they  fight  for  libity  as  well  as  rich 
ones?" 

"Yes." 

"Well — hem i — an't  they  as  honest  as  rich 
men?" 

"No  doubt  of  it." 

"Well,  if  a  poor  man  is  as  free  as  a  rich  man 
(now  you  mus'n't  git  mad  with  me),  and  they  fit  for 
libity  as  well  as  them,  and  is  as  honest,  how  comes 
it  that  some  people  that's  the  smartest  in  the  world 
votes  for  nobody  havin'  votes  but  them  that's  got 
land?"  Here  several  of  the  by-standers  who  had 
been  interchanging  winks  and  smiles  in  token  that 
they  foresaw  the  dilemma  into  which  Darby  was 
leading  his  antagonist,  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"Now,  an't  he  the  devil?"  whispered  one. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is, "  said  a  second,  "  the  law 
yers  an't  gwine  to  git  nothin'  out  o'  him." 

"Mighty  smart  man,"  said  a  third,  gravely, 
"powerful  smart  for  his  opportunities." 

"I  advocated  freehold  suffrage,"  returned 
Smith,  "  in  the  convention  that  framed  the  Consti 
tution,  not  because  I  thought  the  rich  man  entitled 
to  higher  privileges  than  the  poor  man,  but  because 
I  thought  him  less  exposed  to  temptation.  In 
deed,  my  proposition  made  no  distinction  between 
the  poor  and  the  rich,  for  there  is  not  a  farmer  in 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  63 

the  State  who  has  not  more  land  than  would  have 
entitled  him  to  a  vote  under  it.  But  I  apprehend 
the  time  will  come  when  our  State  will  be  inun 
dated  with  strangers  and  sojourners  amongst  us — 
mere  floating  adventurers — who  have  no  common 
interest,  feeling,  or  sympathy  with  us,  who  will 
prostitute  the  right  of  suffrage  to  private  gain,  and 
set  up  their  votes  to  the  highest  bidder.  I  would, 
therefore,  have  confined  this  right  to  those  who 
have  a  fixed  and  permanent  interest  in  the  State, 
who  must  share  the  honors  or  suffer  the  penalties 
of  wise  or  corrupt  legislation." 

"If  Smith  is  to  be  blamed,"  said  Jones,  "for 
his  course  in  the  convention,  so  am  I.  I  differed 
from  him,  to  be  sure,  in  measure,  but  agreed  with 
him  in  principle.  I  would  have  had  a  small  prop 
erty  qualification  without  confining  it  to  land,  but 
his  answer  to  this  was  decisive.  If  the  amount  of 
property  required  were  large,  it  would  disqualify 
many  honest  voters  who  are  permanent  residents 
of  the  State ;  if  it  were  small,  every  stranger  who 
brought  with  him  money  enough  to  bear  his  trav 
eling  expenses  would  be  qualified  to  vote.  But  we 
were  both  overruled." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Darby,  "you  talk  too  much 
dictionary  for  me ;  I  wasn't  raised  to  much  book 
larnin'  nor  dictionary  larnin' .  But,  howsomedever, 


64          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

I  think,  'Squire  Smith,  you  said  anybody  that 
didn't  own  land  would  sell  their  votes  to  the  high 
est  bidder ;  and  I  reckon  it's  so,  for  you  great  folks 
knows  more  than  me ;  but  'the  proof  of  the  puddin's 
in  chawin'  the  bag,'  as  the  fellow  said,  therefore 
let's  see  how  the  thing'll  work.  Jimmy  Johns,  you 
don't  own  no  land,  and,  therefore,  'cordin'  to  the 
'Squire's  narration,  you'll  sell  your  vote  to  the 
highest  bidder.  What '11  you  take  for  it?" 

"Nobody  better  not  tell  me,"  said  Jim,  "that 
I'll  sell  my  vote,  or  I'll  be  dad  seized  if  I  don't 
fling  a  handful  o'  fingers  right  in  his  face  in  short 
metcher,  I  don't  care  who  he  is. " 

"  I  did  not  say, "  resumed  Smith,  "  that  any  man 
now  in  the  State  would  sell  his  vote,  nor  do  I  be 
lieve  that  any  true  Georgian,  by  birth  or  adoption, 
ever  will ;  but  the  time  will  come  when  idle,  worth 
less  vagabonds  will  come  amongst  us,  who  will  sell 
their  votes  for  a  pint  of  rum  if  they  can  get  no 


more.'* 


"  Well,  'Squire,  now  it  seems  to  me — but  I  don't 
know,  but  it  seems  to  me — somehow  or  'nother 
that  it'll  be  time  enough  to  have  land  votin'  when 
that  time  comes,  and  not  to  begin  upon  poor  folks 
now  to  stop  mean  folks  when  we  are  all  dead  and 
gone.  Them  folks,  I  reckon,  can  take  care  o* 
themselves." 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  65 

"Then  it  will  be  too  late,"  interposed  Jones. 
"Men  who  have  a  marketable  article  will  never 
give  it  away,  or  allow  it  to  be  taken  from  them. 
Should  they  be  willing  to  renounce  it,  there  will  be 
factious  demagogues  enough  to  prevent  them  from 
so  doing.  No,  Darby,  if  you  would  establish  a 
good  government,  you  must  do  it  at  its  organi 
zation;  thenceforward  there  is  a  ceaseless  war 
between  the  governors  and  the  governed.  The 
rulers  are  ever  usurping  the  rights  of  the  people,  or 
the  people  are  ever  resuming  the  rights  of  the' ' — 

"Stop  a  little  thar,"  interrupted  Darby;  "you 
say  thar's  a  war  'tween  the  Governor  and  the  gov- 
'ment.  Now,  what's  the  reason  I  never  hearn  of 
that  war?  I've  hearn  of  the  old  French  War  and 
the  Rev'lution  War  and  the  Injun  War,  but  I 
never  hearn  of  that  war  before." 

"I  don't  say,"  continued  Jones,  impatiently, 
"that  there  is  a  war,  a  fight" — 

"  O,  well,  if  you  take  that  back,  why  we'll  start 
ag'in.  But,  howsomedever,  when  I'm  gwine  to  a 
place  I  always  try  to  take  the  right  road  at  first, 
and  then  thar's  no  'casion  for  turnin'  back." 

"Well,  Darby,"  said  Jones,  "you  are  certainly 
a  bigger  fool  than  I  took  you  to  be,  and  that  is  not 
your  worst  fault." 

"Well,  now,  you  see,"  said  Darby  (bristling), 

5 


66  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

4 'that  kind  o'  chat  an't  gwine  to  do  for  me,  no 
how;  and  you  must  take  it  back  quick  as  you  did 
the  war,  or  I'll  make  the  fur  fly  to  the  tother 
sorts.1 ' 

"  Yes,  I'll  be  dad  seized  if  I  didn't, "  said  Jimmy 
Johns,  becoming  furious;  "talkin's  talkin',  but 
callin'  a  man  the  fool's  no  sort  of  chat." 

"Uncle  Darby,"  said  John  Fields,  "you  gwine 
to  swallow  that?  If  you  do,  you  needn't  count  on 
John  Fields's  vote." 

"No,  I'm  not,"  continued  Darby,  touching  his 
coat.  "Gentlemen,  I  didn't  go  to  'Squire  Jones; 
he  came  to  me  and  brought  on  the  fuss,  and  I 
don't  think  I'm  to  blame.  My  chamcter  is  as 
good  to  me  as  his'n  to  him;  and,  gentlemen,  I'm  a 
plain,  hard-workin'  man,  but  I'll  be  burned  if  I 
can  bear  everything." 

"Strip  yourself,  Darby,"  said  Snatch,  flinging 
off  his  coat  as  if  it  were  full  of  nettles,  and  pouring 
forth  a  volley  of  oaths  without  order  or  connection ; 
"strip  yourself;  you  sha'n't  be  imposed  on,;  I'll 
see  you  out." 

"O  well,  now,"  said  John  Reynolds  (the  bully 
of  the  county),  coolly,  "if  thar's  to  be  any  fur 
flyin'  here,  I  must  have  a  little  of  the  pullin'  of  it. 
And,  Darby,  you're  not  goin'  to  knock  the  'Squire 
till  you  walk  over  me  to  do  it.  He's  holpt  my 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  67 

wife  and  children  too  often  when  they've  been 
sick  for  me  to  stand  by  and  see  him  imposed  on, 
right  or  wrong;  that's  the  racket." 

"Well,  Johnny,"  said  Darby  (re-adjusting  his 
coat),  "I  always  liked  the  'Squire  myself,  and 
always  voted  for  him — don't  you  know  I  did, 
Johnny? — but  then  you  know  yourself  that  it's 
mighty  hard  for  a  man  to  be  called  a  fool  to  his 
face,  now  an't  it,  Johnny?" 

"Why,  it's  a  thing  that  don't  go  down  easy,  I 
know,  but  then  look  at  tother  side  a  little.  Now 
you  made  out  the  'Squire  eat  his  words  about  the 
war,  and  that's  mighty  hard  to  swallow,  too.  Now 
he  told  you  he  didn't  mean  they  fit,  and  you  know 
anybody's  liable  to  make  mistakes  anyhow;  and 
you  kept  makin'  out  that  he  had  to  back  out  from 
what  he  said,  and" — 

"Yes,  Darby,"  said  Jimmy  Johns,  "that's  a 
fact,  Johnny's  right.  You  brushed  the  'Squire  a 
little  too  close  there,  Darby,  and  I  can't  blame 
him  for  gittin'  mad.  I'll  stick  by  you  when  you're 
on  the  right  side,  but  I  can't  go  with  you  there.  I 
couldn't  ha'  stood  it  myself.' ' 

"Yes,  Darby,"  said  Fields,  "you  must  confess 
yourself  that  you.  begun  it,  and,  therefore,  you 
oughtn't  to  got  mad.  That  was  wrong,  Darby, 
and  I  can't  go  with  you  them  lengths." 


68  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"How  was  it?"  said  Snatch,  as  if  he  were  not 
at  the  beginning  of  the  affray.  "  How  was  it? " 

"Why,"  said  Johns,  "Darby  made  out  the 
'Squire  eat  his  words,  and  then  the  'Squire  called 
Darby  a  fool." 

"O,  chuch!"  said  Snatch,  "was  that  the  way  of 
it?  Darby's  wrong.  If  I'd  o'  knowed  that,  I 
wouldn't  a'  opened  my  mouth. " 

"Well,"  said  Darby,  "I  believe  I  was  wrong 
there,  Johnny;  and  if  my  friends  say  so,  I  know 
I  was.  And,  therefore,  I  am  willin'  to  drop  it.  I 
always  looked  upon  the  'Squire  as  a  mighty  good, 
kind-hearted  man. " 

"O  yes!"  exclaimed  three  or  four  at  once, 
"drop  it." 

"I  was  just  waitin'  to  see  a  row,"  said  Sam 
Flat  (bully  number  two),  "and  I'd  a'  kept  up  all 
sorts  o'  rollin'  and  tumblin'  over  this  barbecue 
ground  before  I'd  a'  seen  the  'Squire  hurt. " 

"O,  but  Sammy,"  said  Johns,  Fields,  and 
Snatch  eagerly  and  in  one  voice,  "it's  all  over 
now.  Drop  it ;  we  all  see  Darby  was  wrong. " 

"  O  yes, "  said  John  White,  reeling  under  a  pint 
of  rum,  "drop  it;  it's  all  got — in  a  wrong — fix — 
by  not  knowin' — nothin'  'bout  it.  I  heard  it 
every  bit.  'Squire  didn't  say  what  Darby  said— 
and  Darby — didn't  say  what  'Squire  said — and 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  69 

none  of  you  didn't  say  what  all  of  you  said — and 
that's  the  way — you  all  got  to  quar'lin'  an' 
fightin'.  We're  all  friends — let's  go  'n'  take  a 
drink — which  whipped  ? ' ' 

Before  White  concluded  this  very  luminous  and 
satisfactory  explanation  the  attorneys  and  their 
friends  had  retired,  and  Darby  proceeded:  "Gen 
tlemen,  when  I  fust  talked  'bout  bein'  a  cand'date, 
I  had  no  notion  o'  bein'  one.  I  jest  said  it  in  fun, 
as  all  the  boys  here  knows.  But  now,  you  see, 
sence  they  go  to  puttin'  on  me  after  this  sort,  I'll 
be  blamed  if  I  don't  be  a  cand'date,  even  if  I  git 
beat.  This  is  a  free  country,  in  which  every  man 
has  a  right  to  do  as  he  pleases,  and  'cordin'  to  their 
chat  nobody  ha'nt  got  no  right  to  be  cand 'dates 
but  lawyers.  If  that's  the  chat,  I  don't  know 
what  our  Rev'lution  was  for,  and  I  fit  in  it  too. 
Gentlemen,  you  see  how  I've  been  persecuted. " 

Darby's  resolution  was  applauded  by  some,  and 
his  insulted  dignity  soothed  by  others.  He  now 
surrendered  himself  unreservedly  to  electioneering. 
His  first  object  was  to  secure  the  favor  of  John 
Reynolds,  for  the  bully  of  a  county  was  then  a 
very  desirable  auxiliary  in  a  canvass.  This  was 
easily  effected  by  a  little  kindness  and  a  little  hy 
pocrisy,  and  Darby  wanted  neither  when  his  in 
terest  was  at  stake.  He  soon  persuaded  John  that 


70  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

all  he  had  said  to  Mr.  Jones  was  a  joke,  or  (what 
was  the  same  thing  to  John)  an  error  in  Darby; 
and  as  the  bully  of  the  county  is  too  much  occu 
pied  in  seeking  glory  to  attend  much  to  his  trade 
or  his  farm,  and  is  therefore  constantly  in  need  of 
some  little  assistance  from  his  more  industrious 
neighbors,  Darby  had  opportunities  enough  of  con 
ciliating  John  by  kind  offices.  These  he  improved 
so  handsomely  that  John  was  soon  won  by  grati 
tude,  and  came  out  his  open  supporter. 

Marvelous  was  now  the  "  change"  which  " came 
over  the  spirit  of  Darby's  dream. "  His  shop  was 
committed  to  the  entire  management  of  Sambo  and 
Cuffy,  and  his  " little  strangers"  to  Nancy.  He 
rode  night  and  day,  attended  every  gathering  in 
the  county,  treated  liberally,  aped  dignity  here, 
cracked  obscene  jokes  there,  sung  vulgar  songs  in 
one  place,  talked  gravely  in  another,  told  long,  dry 
stories,  gave  short,  mean  toasts,  jested  with  the 
women  and  played  with  the  children,  grew  liberal 
in  suretyships,  paid  promptly  and  dunned  nobody, 
and  asked  everybody  to  vote  for  him. 

By  these  means  Darby's  popularity  increased 
wonderfully.  Three  months  lay  between  the  bar 
becue  and  the  election,  and  before  the  expiration 
of  the  first  the  wise  began  to  fear  and  the  foolish  to 
boast  that  Darby  Anvil  would  be  elected.  An- 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  71 

other  month  placed  the  matter  beyond  dispute, 
and  left  to  either  of  the  other  candidates  the  alter 
native  of  making  common  cause  with  Darby  or 
staying  at  home.  The  temptation  was  too  strong 
for  Smith's  integrity.  He  formed  a  secret  alliance 
with  Darby.  It  was  effected  with  great  care  and 
much  cunning,  but  it  was  soon  exposed  by  his  con 
duct  and  its  results.  It  was  the  first  instance  of 
such  self-abasement  that  I  ever  witnessed  in 
Georgia  (would  that  it  had  been  the  last!),  and  it 
was  received  with  becoming  indignation  by  the 
virtuous  and  intelligent  of  the  country.  They 
took  the  field,  almost  to  a  man,  in  behalf  of  Jones, 
and  but  for  his  magnanimity  they  would  have  suc 
ceeded  at  last  in  giving  Smith  the  just  reward  of 
his  treachery.  But  Jones  implored  them  by  their 
regard  for  the  future  welfare  of  the  State  to  level 
all  their  forces  against  Anvil  and  not  against 
Smith.  "If  Smith,"  said  he,  "is  returned  to  the 
Legislature,  he  will  serve  you  with  profit,  if  not 
with  honor;  but  if  Darby  be  elected,  he  will  be 
worthless  as  a  member  and  ruinous  as  an  example. 
Encouraged  by  his  success,  hundreds  of  stupid 
asses  like  himself  will  make  their  way  into  the 
General  Assembly;  and  the  consequences  will  be 
that  our  government  will  become  a  despotism  of 
fools  and  a  disgrace  to  republicanism. "  By  these 


72  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

and  many  other  more  forcible  arguments,  which  I 
have  not  time  to  repeat,  Jones  prevailed  upon  his 
friends  to  sacrifice  their  private  prejudices  to  the 
public  good,  and  to  bend  all  their  exertions  to  the 
exclusion  of  Anvil.  They  did  so,  and  for  a  time 
wonderful  were  the  effects  of  their  efforts.  So 
commanding  was  their  position  that  even  the  com 
mon  people  were  attracted  by  it,  and  many  came 
over  to  them  from  the  ranks  of  the  coalition. 
Smith  was  cowed  by  the  noble  bearing  of  his  old 
friend  toward  him,  and  remorse  greatly  paralyzed 
his  exertions.  Darby,  too,  grew  so  much  alarmed 
that  he  became  serious,  and  by  as  much  as  he  grew 
serious  by  so  much  did  he  lose  his  influence.  In 
short,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  after  all 
Darby  would  have  been  beaten  had  not  a  little 
incident  occurred  which  secured  his  election  in 
spite  of  opposition.  It  was  a  strange  incident  to 
be  followed  by  such  an  effect.  There  is  an  old 
Scotch  song  which  says : 

Be  a  lassie  e'er  so  black 

An  she  hae  the  name  o'  siller, 

Set  her  upo'  Tintock  top, 

The  wind  will  blaw  a  man  till  her. 

The  winds  are  not  more  propitious  to  the  siller' d 
lassie  than  unpropitious  to  a  candidate.  If  ever 
ghe  has  committed  a  fault,  no  matter  when  or  where 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  73 

the  wind  will  blow  a  babbler  to  him.  It  was  so 
with  Darby,  though  unfortunate  only  in  a  moral, 
not  in  a  political  sense. 

About  three  weeks  before  the  election  a  traveler 
stopped  at  a  public  house  in  the  county  where  sev 
eral  persons  had  collected,  and  amongst  the  rest 
was  Your  Uncle  Nicky  Bugg.     This  was  a  title 
which  he  assumed  himself  and  which  was  accorded 
to  him  by  universal  consent.     The  company  were 
all  supporters  of  Jones,   and  their  conversation 
turning  upon  the  approaching  election,  they  de 
nounced  Darby  Anvil  in  unmeasured  terms.     The 
stranger,   probably   emboldened  by  their  senti 
ments,  after  putting  a  few  questions  as  to  Darby's 
personal  identity,  stated  that  Darby  had  left  Vir 
ginia  between  two  days  in  order  to  avoid  a  prosecu 
tion  for  perjury.     The  stranger  said  he  was  not 
himself  personally  acquainted  with  the  facts,  but 
referred  to  a  number  of  persons  in  Virginia  who 
would  confirm  his  statement  by  certificates.     The 
certificates  were  immediately  written  for,  and  to 
make  their  effect  the  more  decisive  it  was  resolved 
by  the  company  that  they  would  not  whisper  the 
important  discovery  until  the  certificates  arrived. 
Fortunately  for  Darby,  they  did  not  arrive  until 
the  evening  before  the  election. 

At  an  early  hour  of  the  succeeding  day  Darby 


74          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

made  his  appearance  at  the  court-house  at  the 
head  of  about  thirty  men,  some  in  wagons,  some  on 
horseback  (single  and  double),  and  some  on  foot. 
They  all  had  their  tickets  in  their  hats,  with  the 
names  of  Smith  and  Anvil  written  on  them  in 
large  characters.  As  they  proceeded  to  the  polls 
they  made  the  village  ring  with  shouts  of  "  Hurrah 
for  Smith ! "  "  Hurrah  for  Anvil ! "  "  Hurrah  for 
the  blacksmith  and  the  people's  candidate!" 
Darby  had  provided  a  table  and  a  dozen  bottles  of 
rum,  to  which  he  led  his  friends  and  told  them  to 
drink  freely  and  vote  boldly.  He  was  reminded 
that  if  he  should  be  elected  he  would  have  to 
swear  that  he  had  not  gained  his  election  by  treat 
ing,  canvassing,  etc.,  to  which  he  replied  that  he 
"could  swaller  that  oath  mighty  easy,  for  he 
reckoned  nobody  wa'n't  so  mean  as  to  vote  for 
him  just  because  he  treated  'em. " 

Owing  to  some  misunderstanding  of  the  magis 
trates  who  were  to  preside  at  the  election,  or  from 
some  other  cause  unknown,  the  polls  were  not 
opened  until  an  hour  or  two  after  the  usual  time. 
The  delay  was  extremely  annoying  to  Darby;  for 
in  the  interim  his  friends  paid  such  profound  re 
spect  to  his  first  injunction  above  mentioned  that 
several  of  them  were  fast  becoming  hors  de  suf 
frage,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression.  At 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  75 

length  came  the  magistrates,  however;  and  no 
sooner  had  they  entered  the  court-yard,  where 
was  collected  an  immense  throng,  than  "Your 
Uncle  Nicky"  took  the  topmost  step  at  the  door 
of  the  court-house,  and  demanded  the  attention  of 
every  gentleman  present.  The  demand  had  to  be 
repeated  several  times  before  it  was  heeded,  but  it 
finally  succeeded  in  gathering  around  him  every 
voter  on  the  campus.  They  were  soon  reduced 
to  silence,  and  Bugg  commenced  reading,  in  a 
slow  and  audible  voice,  the  cruel  certificates.  In 
the  meantime  Darby,  as  one  very  truly  observed, 
11  looked  powerful  bad. "  He  stared  like  an  owl  at 
noonday,  and  trembled  like  the  shoe  of  a  grist 
mill.  He  changed  feet  as  rapidly  as  if  he  had 
been  upon  hot  embers ;  and  as  for  his  hands,  suf 
fered  them  to  do  as  they  pleased,  and  they  pleased 
to  go  through  evolutions  that  no  pen  can  describe. 
I  can  only  say  of  them  that  they  seemed  to  be  in 
frantic  search  for  the  mind  that  had  deserted 
them,  for  they  wandered  all  over  his  body  and  all 
through  his  apparel,  giving  occasional  hints  to  the 
materialists  that  the  mind  may  at  last  be  seated 
where  none  of  them  have  ever  yet  placed  it.  To 
add,  if  possible,  to  Darby's  embarrassment, 
"Your  Uncle  Nicky"  was  one  of  those  men  to 
whom  a  fight  was  an  accommodation.  Darby 


76  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

could  not,  therefore,  with  safety,  resort  to  the 
usual  expedient  in  such  cases:  a  quarrel  with  the 
author  of  his  mortification.  He  received  a  conso 
lation,  however,  the  most  grateful  that  could  have 
been  offered  to  his  tortured  feelings,  even  before 
Bugg  had  disposed  of  the  certificates.  It  was 
from  the  cry  of  "  Persecution!"  which  issued  from 
a  number  of  voices,  accompanied  by  other  con 
solatory  expressions,  which  increased  as  soon  as 
Bugg  had  concluded. 

"It's  too  bad!"  exclaimed  one,  "to  attack  a 
man  so  right  on  the  'lection  day  to  his  face,  when 
he  ha'n't  got  no  chance  o'  defendin'  himself. " 

"  Ah,  well,  now, "  said  asecond,  "  if  they  go  to  tak- 
in'  these  in-turns  on  a  fellow  they  an't  gwine  to  git 
no  good  of  it,  and  you'll  see  it.  The  clean  thing's 
the  clean  thing,  but  this  whopping  a  fellow  up  all  at 
once  when  he's  no  chance  is  no  sort  o'  doin's." 

"Walk,  ticket!"  exclaimed  a  third  (tearing  up 
a  ticket  on  which  was  Jones's  name},  "and  come 
over  to  the  old  blacksmith;  into  my  hand  flitter! 
Fair  play's  a  jewel,  and  that's  what  I  go  for  in 
'lectioneering  as  well  as  everything  else." 

"Never  mind,  Darby,"  added  a  fourth,  "you 
an't  dead  yet  if  you  are  down  and  kickin'.  There's 
enough  here '11  stand  by  you  yet.  Keep  a  stiff 
upper  lip,  and  you'll  come  through  yet." 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  77 

"I  swear,"  added  a  fifth,  "it's  too  bad!  It's 
enough  to  hurt  any  man's  feelin's  to  be  so  put 
upon  unbeknowens. " 

These,  and  many  other  expressions  of  a  like 
kind,  so  far  restored  Darby's  equanimity  that  he 
was  able  to  take  the  step  in  his  defense  as  soon  as 
Bugg  descended  from  it.  When  he  mounted  the 
rostrum,  his  appearance  was  quite  unparliamen 
tary.  He  was  dressed  in  a  full  suit  of  mud-colored 
home-spun,  the  workmanship  of  Nancy's  own 
hands,  from  the  carding  to  the  weaving.  His 
pantaloons  were  supported  only  by  his  hips,  for 
suspenders  were  not  then  worn;  and  even  with 
this  advantage  at  the  one  extremity,  they  were 
full  five  inches  too  short  at  the  other.  They 
reached  his  socks  only  when  he  stood  firm  on  both 
legs — that  is,  when  they  were  suffered  to  hang  in  a 
right  line — but  as  Darby  rarely  used  both  limbs 
at  the  same  time,  there  was  an  alternate  flashing 
of  naked  skin  from  either  limb,  of  the  most  agree 
able  and  bewitching  novelty.  His  vest  was  more 
uncourteous  to  his  pantaloons  than  were  his  socks, 
for  no  position  of  Darby's  body  could  induce  it  to 
come  within  an  inch  of  them.  His  under  garment, 
however,  acted  as  a  mediator  between  them,  and 
gracefully  rolled  out  into  the  vacant  space,  seem 
ingly  to  encircle  the  orator  with  a  sash  of  coarse 


78  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

but  clean,  white  cloth.  Darby  wore  no  cravat; 
and  from  accident  or  design  (the  former,  I  sup 
pose),  his  shirt-collar  was  thrown  entirely  open, 
leaving  exposed  a  most  unsightly  Adam's  apple, 
that  gave  to  his  neck  the  appearance  of  a  little 
dromedary.  Upon  his  coat  Nancy  had  obviously 
"  spread  herself, "  as  we  say  in  Georgia.  She  seemed 
to  have  taken  the  pattern  of  it  from  the  wings 
of  a  horse-fly.  From  a  point  about  seven  inches 
above  the  os  coccygis,  it  debouched  to  the  right  and 
the  left,  with  daring  encroachments  upon  his 
calves.  Two  large  plano-convex  covered  buttons 
marked  the  salient  points  of  the  skirts,  and  as 
many  (on  either  skirt,  one)  their  nether  limits. 
The  molds  of  these  gorgeous  ornaments  were  cut, 
by  the  measure  of  a  half-dollar,  from  a  dried 
gourd ;  of  course,  therefore,  it  was  in  the  covering 
that  they  took  the  shape  which  I  have  given  to 
them.  Five  buttons  more  (ejusdem  generis)  stood 
in  open  order  upon  each  lapel;  and  from  every 
button  advanced,  in  marvelous  length,  a  button 
hole  worked  with  "indigo  blue,"  so  that  they 
looked  like  two  little  detachments  of  artillery 
drawn  up  in  battle  array  against  each  other. 
Coarse,  sharp-pointed  shoes  and  a  low-crowned, 
broad-brimmed  white  hat  completed  the  costume 
of  the  first  orator  that  I  ever  had  the  pleasure  of 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  79 

hearing  address  the  electors  of  a  county  in  Georgia. 
Indeed,  he  was  the  last  also;  for,  though  it  is  not 
now  an  unusual  thing  for  candidates  "  to  respond 
in  strains  of  glowing  eloquence"  (see  gazettes, 
passim)  at  dinner  parties  and  barbecues,  it  is  a 
very  rare  thing  for  them  to  address  "the  sover 
eignty"  when  assembled  to  exercise  the  elective 
franchise.  But  Darby  had  no  alternative.  The 
greetings  which  he  met  with  from  the  crowd  when 
he  ascended  the  tribune  were  such  as  would  have 
confounded  any  one  who  did  not  understand  the 
spirit  with  which  they  were  uttered.  Strange  as 
it  may  seem  to  the  reader,  they  were  meant  for 
encouragement,  and  were  so  understood  by 
Darby. 

"Hey,  Darb!"  vociferated  one,  "you're  too 
strong  for  your  runners;  you've  pushed  your  legs 
too  far  through  your  breeches. " 

"Never  mind  that,  Darby,"  cried  another. 
"Tuck  in  your  shirt-tail,  and  nor  ate  away  the 
best  you  can;  we'll  see  you  out." 

"Why,  Darby,"  cried  the  third,  "what  makes 
you  swaller  so?  Stand  up  to  your  fodder  like  a 
man.  You've  got  plenty  of  friends  here  yet." 

"Why,  gentlemen,"  proceeded  Darby,  "its 
enough  to  make  anybody  swaller  and  feel  bad  too, 
to  be  put  upon  after  this  sort,  all  unbeknowens, 


8o  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

when  he  ha'n't  got  no  chance  o'  defendin'  himself 
—no  manner  o*  chance.  Gentlemen,  I  fit  in  the 
Revolution;  and  if  I'm  now  to  lose  my  chamVter 
because  I'm  took  all  unawar's,  I  shall  think  it  the 
hardest  case  I  ever  hearn  of  in  all  my  born  days. 
Gentlemen,  my  chamber's  as  much  to  me  and  any 
hardworkin'  man  as  any  man's  chamrter  is  to  him, 
if  he's  a  lawyer,  or  a  doctor,  or  a  store-keeper,  or  I 
don't  care  what  he  is.  For  what's  a  man  worth 
that  an't  got  no  chamVter?  He's  like  a  pair  o' 
belloweses  that  ha'n't  got  no  nose,  or  a  saw  that 
ha'n't  got  no  handle:  they  an't  no  manner  o' 
'count;  you  can't  use  'em  at  all.  ['That's  the 
truth,  Darby, '  interposed  a  voice  gravely].  Gen 
tlemen,  I've  lived  a  long  time  with  you:  did  any 
of  you  ever  hear  of  my  usin'  perj'ry?  I  reckon  if 
I  had  time  I  could  git  ce'tif 'cates,  too,  but  you  all 
see  I  an't  got  no  time  at  all.  Gentlemen,  I  don't 
think  I  ever  seed  any  one  that  was  so  persecuted 
in  all  my  born  days;  and  if  I'm  beat  now,  I  shall 
think  I'm  beat  by  persecution.  And  there's  my 
wife  and  ten  children,  and  they  must  all  lose  their 
chamVters,  too,  just  by  bein'  taken  unawar's.  I 
never  knowed  nobody  to  git  nothin'  by  persecu 
tion;  but  if  me  and  my  wife  and  children's  all  to 
lose  our  chamVters  by  it,  why  I  s'pose  it  must  be 
so,  but  I  shall  think  it  mighty  hard.  Gentlemen, 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  81 

you  can  do  as  you  please  with  me ;  and  whatever 
you  do,  I  can't  help  it." 

The  cry  of  "Hurrah  for  Anvil!"  from  many 
voices  as  Darby  descended  from  the  steps  plainly 
testified  that  he  had  the  sympathies  and  support  of 
the  majority.  In  vain  did  Jones  and  his  friends 
reason  with  them  upon  the  difference  between 
exposing  vice  and  persecuting  innocence.  It  was 
in  vain  that  they  argued  against  the  injustice  of 
visiting  Bugg's  fault  (if  fault  it  was)  upon  the  head 
of  his  friend  Jones.  The  time  and  the  severity  of 
the  attack  were  sufficient  to  change  Darby  into 
an  object  of  persecution  in  their  eyes.  To  make 
matters  worse,  if  possible,  for  Jones,  "  Your  Uncle 
Nicky  "  undertook  to  reason  with  the  malcontents. 
This  was  a  very  unfortunate  step,  for  though  he 
was  fully  competent  to  reason,  and  reason  well, 
with  reasonable  beings,  he  was  the  last  man  on 
earth  who,  in  this  way,  should  have  undertaken  to 
reclaim  those  who  were  won  to  Darby's  support  by 
what  we  have  seen.  He  was  easily  excited  and 
utterly  intolerant  of  folly.  Irritable  as  he  was,  how 
ever,  he  rarely  gave  signs  of  anger  either  in  voice 
or  countenance.  So  far  from  it,  his  composure 
was  always  greatest  when  just  at  the  fighting  point. 

The  first  that  "Your  Uncle  Nicky"  undertook 
to  correct  was  Jimmy  Johns,  who  had  pretended  to 

6 


82  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

have  a  great  friendship  for  him  for  reasons  to  be 
found  in  Jimmy's  deportment  toward  John  Rey 
nolds. 

"  Jimmy, "  said  Bugg,  "  you  surely  are  not  going 
to  vote  for  that  fool,  Darby  Anvil. " 

"  Yes,  I  is, "  said  Jimmy ;  "  and  the  more  and  the 
better  of  it  is,  I  mean  to  give  him  a  plumper,  too." 

"What!  to  such  a  despicable  character?" 

"Yes;  despical  or  no  despical  character,  I  can't 
go  ag'in  a  persecuted  man  with  a  wife  and  ten 
childern — Miss  Anvil  is— 

"  But  it's  no  persecution  to  tell  the  truth  on  a 
man,  especially  when  the  truth  goes  to  show  that 
he  is  unfit  for  an  office  to  which  he  is  aspiring. 
Your  way  of  reasoning  will  make  rascality  a  pass 
port  to  office." 

"O,  I  don't  blame  you,  Uncle  Nicky,  I  know 
what  you  did  was  for  the  best,  but  now  you'll  con 
fess  yourself — now  won't  you,  Uncle  Nicky? — 
that  if  he  was  'spirin'  and  passport,  you  oughtn't 
to  come  down  on  him  as  you  did,  right  at  the 
'lection.  That  was  rubbin'  him  too  hard,  now 
wa'n't  it,  Uncle  Nicky?  'Twas  enough  to  make 
anybody  feel  sorry  for  him;  and  Miss  Anvil — " 

"What  difference  does  it  make  when  or  where 
you  expose  a  villain?  And  what  has  Miss  Anvil 
to  do  with  it  ?  Is  she  a  candidate  ? ' ' 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  83 

"  No,  but  she's  a  mighty  good  'oman ;  and  you 
know  yourself,  Uncle  Nicky,  she  an't  to  blame. 
And  wouldn't  it  be  wrong  to  hurt  her  cham'rter? 
Now  I  leave  it  to  yourself,  Uncle  Nicky.  Jist 
take  it  to  yourself — s'pose  you'd  been  guilty  o' 
parj'ry,  and  Miss  Bugg— 

"  Stop  a  little,  Jimmy,  "  said  Bugg  very  calmly, 
"  until '  Your  Uncle  Nicky'  tries  another  argument 
better  suited  to  your  capacity,  and  which  I  think 
will  brighten  your  ideas. "  So  saying,  he  "  fetched 
Jimmy  a  sentimental  jolt"  (as  one  afterward 
described  it)  in  the  butt  of  the  ear  that  laid  him  out 
in  short  order. 

Jimmy  "holl'd"  in  time  to  arrest  Uncle  Nicky's 
experimental  philosophy  at  the  first  blow  and  the 
second  kick.  He  would  have  fought  longer  with 
another  man,  but  with  Uncle  Nicky  he  knew  that 
the  longer  he  fought  the  worse  he  would  be  flogged ; 
so  he  acted  wisely  for  once,  at  least. 

In  this  way  did  "Your  Uncle  Nicky"  proceed 
to  dispense  light  amongst  the  plebs  until  he  raised 
a  battle-royal  in  the  court-yard.  At  one  time  I 
observed  not  less  than  eight  couples  who  were 
engaged  in  interchanging  Uncle  Nicky's  ethics. 

The  day  rolled  away,  and  at  ten  o'clock  at  night 
the  state  of  the  polls  was  announced.  Darby  and 
Smith  were  elected.  They  were  both  hoisted  and 


84  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

borne  about  on  the  shoulders  of  their  friends  with 
huzzas  of  triumph.  They  then  invited  all  who 
lingered  about  the  court-yard  at  that  late  hour  to  a 
supper  at  one  of  the  public  houses  of  the  village. 
Here  they  ate,  drank,  sung  vulgar  songs,  and  told 
more  vulgar  stories  until  about  one  o'clock,  when 
they,  or  some  of  them,  sallied  forth  and  with  drum 
and  fife  and  yells  drove  sleep  from  the  village 
until  the  dawn. 

An  inveterate  hostility  between  Smith  and 
Jones  followed  this  election,  the  traces  of  which 
may  be  seen  in  their  descendants  to  this  day. 
Darby  was  elected  again  and  again ;  and  though  he 
did  nothing  in  the  Legislature  but  vote  as  Smith 
voted,  and  drink  grog  in  the  recess  of  the  sessions, 
he  always  returned  to  his  constituents  with  won 
derful  stories  of  what  "we  did  and  what  we  tried 
to  do." 

In  the  meantime,  things  about  home  began  to 
run  rapidly  to  decay.  Sambo  and  Cuffy  worked 
up  immense  quantities  of  iron,  for  they  both 
worked  a  great  deal  harder,  as  they  said  them 
selves,  when  "massa"  was  away  than  when  he 
was  there,  "jist  dat  white  folks  might  see  dat 
nigger  didn't  want  no  watchin',  and  dat  massa 
might  know  how  to  trust  'em."  But  then  they 
had  little  or  nothing  to  show  for  it.  A  number  of 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  85 

good  customers  deserted  the  shop;  some  from 
political  hostility  to  the  owner,  and  others  because 
Sambo  and  Cuffy  were  always  too  busy  to  attend 
to  them.  Mrs.  Anvil  grew  dissatisfied  with  poli 
tics  as  soon  as  Darby  returned  the  first  time  from 
the  Legislature  with  no  money  in  his  pockets,  for 
she  had  taken  up  the  idea  that  all  who  stepped 
into  the  Assembly  stepped  into  a  fortune.  She 
therefore  advised  Darby  to  "quit  it  as  not  bein' 
the  thing  it  was  cracked  up  to  be, "  and  to  "  come 
home  and  mind  his  own  business."  But  Darby 
had  become  too  much  enamored  of  the  public 
service  to  take  her  counsel.  He  told  her  it  would 
never  do  in  the  world  for  him  to  take  his  name 
down — his  party  would  never  forgive  him.  This 
logic  was  unsatisfactory  to  Nancy  at  first,  and  it 
became  still  more  so  as  troubles  thickened  about 
the  house.  She  therefore  became  crusty,  petulant 
and  boisterous  by  turns,  greatly  to  the  disturbance 
of  Darby's  domestic  peace  and  tranquillity.  He 
had  anticipated  this  emergency,  and  took  to  drink 
privately  beforehand ;  but  he  now  began  to  come 
home  drunk  out  of  spite,  and  Nancy  gave  him  spite 
for  spite.  Still,  however,  wife-like,  she  struggled 
hard  to  keep  things  together  and  to  save  her  family 
from  ruin;  and  her  increased  industry  and  econ 
omy  would  probably  have  balanced  Darby's 


86  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

waste  from  drink  and  kept  a  support  in  hand  until 
he  burned  out,  but  alas!  tickets  began  to  pour  in 
upon  them  by  the  peck  from  the  courts  of  con 
science  and  other  more  unconscionable  courts, 
inviting  Darby  to  appear  here  and  appear  there  to 
answer  for  countless  debts  of  his  constituents. 
Then  came  the  officers  of  justice  and  reduced  them 
to  beggary.  A  little  before  matters  reached  this 
crisis  Darby  was  beaten  for  the  Legislature,  and  it 
distressed  him  beyond  measure.  The  friends  for 
whom  he  had  done  the  most  were  the  first  to 
desert  him,  alleging  as  a  reason  his  want  of  quali 
fication,  and  their  thorough  conviction,  after  three 
years'  reflection,  that  the  Virginia  certificates  were 
true. 

Thus  ended  Darby's  nomothetic  career,  but  here 
ended  not  the  consequences  of  it.  Encouraged  by 
his  success,  worthless  candidates  sprung  up  in 
every  county.  If  their  presumption  was  rebuked, 
they  silenced  the  reprover  and  repressed  their  own 
shame  with  "I  know  that  I  am  better  qualified 
than  Darby  Anvil. "  Under  this  plea  and  by  such 
artifices  as  Anvil  had  used,  they  made  their  way  to 
the  councils  of  the  State,  where  they  became  the 
worthy  progenitors  of  a  series  of  acts  extending 
through  many  years,  which  for  extravagance  and 
folly  have  no  parallel  in  the  codes  of  enlightened 


DARBY,  THE  POLITICIAN  87 

nations.  The  penalties  of  these  acts  are  now  upon 
our  heads,  and  upon  our  children's  children  will 
they  descend  with  unmitigated  rigor.  I  forbear 
to  follow  the  consequences  further — in  charity  to 
my  native  land  I  forbear.  And  yet  I  am  not  so 
sure  but  that  such  charity  is  treason  to  the  State 
and  allegiance  to  her  most  deadly  foes.  Pre 
sumptuous  ignorance  should  be  reprimanded  with 
a  fearless  tongue,  its  sins  should  be  proclaimed 
abroad  in  warning  to  the  people,  and  all  good  men 
should  unite  their  efforts  to  redeem  a  State 
entirely  from  such  influence. 


IV. 
FAMILY  GOVERNMENT. 

I  describe  a  Georgia  family.  It  is  a  fair  speci 
men  of  Georgia  families  generally,  at  the  heads  of 
which  are  parents  of  good  sense,  good  morals, 
and  well-improved  minds.  To  be  sure,  there  are 
in  Georgia  as  many  notions  about  parental  gov 
ernment  as  there  are  in  any  other  country,  and 
the  practice  is  as  various  as  the  opinions.  Some 
parents  exercise  no  government  at  all;  others 
confine  themselves  exclusively  to  the  government 
of  the  tongue,  and  others  rule  by  the  rod  alone; 
but  by  far  the  larger  class  blend  these  several 
modes  of  government  and  prefer  the  one  or  the 
other  according  to  times  and  circumstances.  To 
this  class  belonged  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Butler,  the  heads 
of  the  family  which  I  am  about  to  describe. 
Gilbert  was  the  Christian  name  of  the  husband, 
and  Eliza,  of  the  wife.  I  was  intimately  ac 
quainted  with  them  both,  before  their  union;  and 
was  ever  afterwards  admitted  to  their  household, 
with  the  freedom  of  one  of  its  members — indeed, 
I  was  a  connection  of  one  of  them. 

They  had  been  married  about  eight  months, 

(88) 


FAMILY  GOVERNMENT  89 

when  a  dull  November  evening  found  me  at 
their  fireside.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  the 
conversation  turned  upon  raising  children.  "  By 
the  way,  Eliza,"  said  Gilbert,  "I  have  been 
thinking  for  some  time  past  of  interchanging 
views  with  you  upon  this  subject;  and  there 
never  can  be  a  better  time  than  now,  while  Abra 
ham  is  with  us,  whose  opinions  we  both  respect, 
and  who  will  act  as  umpire  between  us." 
"Well,"  said  Eliza,  "let  me  hear  yours." 
"If  we  should  ever  be  blessed  with  children 


(Eliza  blushed  a  little),  let  it  be  a  fundamental 


law  between  us  that  neither  of  us  ever  interfere 
with  the  discipline  of  the  other,  either  by  look, 
word,  or  action,  in  the  presence  of  the  children." 
"To  that  rule  I  most  heartily  subscribe." 
"When  a  child  is  corrected  by  one  of  us,  let 
not  the  other  extend  to  it  the  least  condolence  or 
sympathy." 

"  In  that  also  you  have  my  hearty  concurrence." 
"Let  us  never  correct  a  child  in  a  passion." 
"The  propriety  of  that  rule  I  fully  admit;   but 
I  fear  that  I  shall  not  always  be  able  to  conform 
to  its  requisitions.     I  will,  however,  endeavor  to 
do  so." 

"  Well,  if  you  will  do  your  best,  I  shall  be  satis 
fied." 


9o  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Let  us,  as  far  as  it  is  practicable,  introduce 
among  our  children  the  universally-admitted 
principles  of  good  government  among  men." 

"  That  is  a  very  indefinite  rule,  husband.  I  know 
very  little  of  the  principles  of  good  government 
among  men;  and  much  less  of  those  principles 
which  are  universally  admitted." 

"Well,  I  will  be  a  little  more  specific.  I  be 
lieve  it  is  universally  admitted  that  laws  should 
precede  punishment,  and  that  none  should  be 
punished  who  are  incapable  of  understanding  the 
law.  In  accordance  with  these  principles,  I 
would  never  punish  a  child  who  is  incapable  of 
distinguishing  between  right  and  wrong,  not 
until  he  shall  have  been  forewarned  of  the  wrong, 
and  taught  to  avoid  it." 

"These  principles  seem  very  reasonable  to  me," 
said  Eliza,  "but  they  can  never  be  applied  to 
children.  If  you  do  not  correct  a  child  until  it 
is  old  enough  to  learn  from  precept  the  difference 
between  right  and  wrong,  there  will  be  no  living 
in  the  house  with  it  for  the  first  five  or  six  years 
of  its  life,  and  no  controlling  it  afterwards." 

Gilbert  received  these  views  of  his  wife  with 
some  alarm,  and  entered  upon  a  long  argument  to 
convince  her  that  they  were  erroneous.  She 
maintained  her  own  very  well,  but  Gilbert  had 


FAMILY  GOVERNMENT  91 

certainly  the  advantage  of  her  in  the  argument. 
All  he  could  say,  however,  did  not  in  the  least 
shake  her  confidence  in  her  opinion. 

I  was  at  length  appealed  to,  and  I  gave  judg 
ment  in  favor  of  Gilbert. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "I  never  was  better  satisfied 
of  anything  in  my  life  than  I  am  that  you  are 
both  wrong.  But  let  us  compromise  this  matter. 
I'll  agree  to  this:  if  ever  I  correct  a  child  before  it 
is  old  enough  to  receive  instruction  from  precept, 
and  you  do  not  approve  of  my  conduct,  I  will 
then  promise  you  never  to  do  the  like  again." 

"Well,"  said  Gilbert,  "that  is  very  fair.  One 
more  rule  will  settle  the  fundamentals,  and  we 
may  safely  trust  all  others  to  future  adjustment. 
Let  us  never  address  our  children  in  the  non 
sensical  gibberish  that  is  so  universally  prevalent 
among  parents,  and  particularly  among  mothers. 
It  is  very  silly  in  the  first  place,  and  it  greatly 
retards  a  child's  improvement  in  the  second. 
Were  it  not  for  this,  I  have  no  doubt  children 
would  speak  their  mother-tongue  as  correctly  at 
four  years  as  they  do  at  sixteen." 

Eliza  smiled,  and  observed  that  this  was  such 
a  small  matter  that  it  had  also  better  be  left  for 
future  adjustment.  To  this  Gilbert  rather  re 
luctantly  assented. 


92  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

About  two  months  after  this  conversation  Gil 
bert  was  " blessed"  with  a  fine  son,  whom  he 
named  John  James  Gilbert,  after  the  two  grand 
fathers  and  himself — a  profusion  of  names  which 
he  had  cause  afterwards  to  repent. 

Just  fourteen  months  and  six  days  thereafter 
he  was  " blessed"  with  a  fine  daughter,  whom 
Eliza  named  Anna  Frances  Eliza,  after  the  two 
grandmothers  and  herself. 

Fifteen  months  thereafter  he  received  a  third 
blessing,  like  unto  the  first,  which  he  called  George 
Henry,  after  his  two  brothers. 

Thirteen  months  and  nineteen  days  after  the 
birth  of  George,  a  fourth  blessing  descended 
upon  Gilbert,  in  the  form  of  a  fine  son.  This 
took  the  name  of  William  Augustus,  after  two 
brothers  of  his  wife. 

Eliza  now  made  a  long  rest  of  nineteen  months, 
four  days  and  five  hours  (I  speak  from  the  family 
record),  when  by  way  of  amends  she  presented 
her  husband  a  pair  of  blessings.  As  soon  as  his 
good  fortune  was  made  known  to  him,  Gilbert 
expressed  regret  that  he  had  not  reserved  his 
own  name  until  now,  in  order  that  the  twins 
might  bear  his  name  and  mine.  Seeing  this 
could  not  be,  he  bestowed  my  name  upon  the  first 
born,  and  gave  me  the  privilege  of  naming  the 


FAMILY  GOVERNMENT  93 

second.  As  I  considered  "a  good  name  rather 
to  be  chosen  than  great  riches,"  I  called  the 
innominate,  Isaac,  after  the  patriarch,  and  a  be 
loved  uncle  of  mine.  In  this  very  triumphant 
and  laudable  manner  did  Mrs.  Butler  close  the 
list  of  her  sons. 

She  now  turned  her  attention  to  daughters,  and 
in  the  short  space  of  five  years  produced  three, 
of  which  a  queen  might  have  been  proud.  Their 
names  in  the  order  of  their  births  were  Louisa, 
Rebecca,  and  Sarah.  It  was  one  of  Mrs.  Butler's 
maxims,  "  If  you  have  anything  to  do,  do  it  at 
once,"  and  she  seemed  to  have  been  governed  by 
this  maxim  in  making  up  her  family;  for  Sarah 
completed  the  number  of  her  children. 

James  was  about  a  year  old  when  I  was  again 
at  Gilbert's  for  the  evening.  He  was  seated  by  the 
supper  table  with  the  child  in  his  arms,  addressing 
some  remark  to  me,  when  I  called  his  attention 
to  the  child  who  was  just  in  the  act  of  putting  its 
fingers  in  the  blaze  of  the  candle.  Gilbert  jerked 
him  away  suddenly,  which  so  disappointed  and 
incensed  Master  John  James  Gilbert  that  he 
screamed  insufferably.  Gilbert  tossed  him,  patted 
him,  walked  him  and  whistled  to  him,  but  he 
could  not  distract  his  attention  from  the  candle. 
He  removed  him  out  of  sight  of  the  luminary, 


94  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

but  that  only  made  matters  worse.  He  now  com 
menced  his  first  lesson  in  the  "principles  of  good 
government."  He  brought  the  child  towards  the 
candle,  and  the  nearer  it  approached  the  more 
pacified  it  became.  The  child  extended  its  arm 
to  catch  the  blaze,  and  Gilbert  bore  it  slowly 
towards  the  flame  until  the  hand  came  nearly  in 
contact  with  it,  when  he  snatched  it  away,  cry 
ing  "bunny  fingers,"  which  is  by  interpretation, 
"you'll  burn  your  fingers."  Eliza  and  I  ex 
changed  smiles,  but  neither  of  us  said  anything. 

The  child  construed  this  into  wanton  teasing, 
and  became,  if  possible,  more  obstreperous  than 
ever.  Gilbert  now  resorted  to  another  expedient. 
He  put  his  own  fingers  into  the  blaze,  withdrew 
them  suddenly,  blew  them,  shook  them,  and  gave 
every  sign  of  acute  agony.  This  not  only  quieted 
but  delighted  the  child,  which  signified  to  him 
to  do  it  again.  He  instantly  perceived  (what 
was  practically  demonstrated  the  minute  after 
wards)  that  the  child  was  putting  a  most  dan 
gerous  interpretation  upon  his  last  illustration. 
He  determined,  therefore,  not  to  repeat  it.  The 
child,  not  satisfied  with  the  sport,  determined  to 
repeat  it  himself;  which  the  father  opposing,  he 
began  to  reach  and  cry  as  before.  There  was 
but  one  experiment  left,  and  that  was  to  let  the 


FAMILY  GOVERNMENT  9S 

child  feel  the  flame  a  little.  This  he  resolved  to 
try;  but  how  to  conduct  it  properly  was  not  so 
easily  settled.  It  would  not  do  to  allow  the  infant 
to  put  his  hand  into  the  blaze,  because  it  would 
either  burn  it  too  little  or  too  much.  He  there 
fore  resolved  to  direct  the  hand  to  a  point  so  near 
the  flame  that  the  increasing  heat  would  induce 
the  child  to  withdraw  his  hand  himself.  Accord 
ingly  he  brought  the  extended  arm  slowly  towards 
the  flame,  the  child  becoming  more  and  more  im 
patient  with  every  moment's  postponement  of  its 
gratification,  until  the  hand  came  within  about 
an  inch  of  the  wick,  when  he  held  the  child 
stationary.  But  James  would  not  let  his  hand 
remain  stationary,  nor  at  a  chosen  point.  He 
kept  snatching  at  the  candle,  till  finding  all  his 
efforts  fruitless  he  threw  himself  violently  back, 
gave  his  father  a  tremendous  thump  on  the  nose 
with  the  back  of  his  head,  and  kicked  and  screamed 
most  outrageously.  "You  little  rascal,"  said 
Gilbert,  "I've  a  good  mind  to  give  you  a  good 
spanking." 

"Give  him  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Butler. 

"You'd  better  not  take  him,"  said  Gilbert  in 
an  undertone,  "while  he  is  in  such  a  passion." 

"No  danger,"  said  she;   "hand  him  to  me." 

As   she   received   him,    "hush,    sir!"    said  she 


96  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

sharply;  and  the  child  hushed  instantly,  and  was 
asleep  in  a  few  minutes. 

"Strange,"  said  Butler,  "how  much  sooner  the 
mother  acquires  control  over  a  child  than  the 
father." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Butler.  "You  would 
have  controlled  him  as  easily  as  I  did,  if  you  had 
given  him  the  same  lesson  beforehand  that  I 
gave  him.  He  got  in  just  such  an  uproar  the 
other  day,  and  finding  nothing  else  would  quiet 
him,  I  spanked  it  out  of  him ;  and  I  have  had  no 
trouble  in  quieting  him  since." 

"I  begin  to  think,  Butler,"  said  I,  "that  Eliza 
was  right  in  the  only  points  of  difference  between 
you  touching  the  management  of  children.  I 
observed  that  you  addressed  the  child  just  now 
in  the  gibberish  which  you  so  much  condemned 
before  you  became  a  father ;  and  though  it  seemed 
ridiculous  enough,  especially  in  you,  I  think  it 
would  have  appeared  still  more  ridiculous  if  you 
had  said  to  a  child  so  young,  '  James,  my  son,  do 
not  put  your  fingers  into  the  flame  of  the  candle, 
it  will  burn  them.'  And  your  experiment  has 
taught  you  the  absolute  impossibility  of  govern 
ing  children  of  very  tender  years  by  prescribed 
rules." 

"I   am   half   inclined   to   your   opinion,"   said 


FAMILY  GOVERNMENT  97 

Butler.  "Eliza's  discipline  has  performed  sev 
eral  good  offices.  It  has  relieved  us  of  James'  in 
sufferable  noise;  it  has  taught  him  to  control  his 
temper  at  its  first  appearance,  and  it  has  taught 
him  the  meaning  of  a  word  ('hush')  which  will 
often  supply  the  place  of  correction  and  always 
forewarn  him  of  desires  unlawful.  However,  this 
case  is  an  exception  to  my  rule  rather  than  a  refu 
tation  of  it.  After  a  child  gets  old  enough  to 
understand  the  language  of  instruction,  he  should 
always  be  premonished  before  he  is  punished." 

Eliza  again  joined  issue  with  him,  and  an  argu 
ment  ensued  in  which  Gilbert  silenced  his  wife  as 
before,  but  with  no  better  effect  upon  her  judg 
ment.  The  matter  was  referred  to  me,  and  I  de 
cided  this  time  in  favor  of  his  wife,  rather  upon 
the  doctrine  of  chances  than  of  dialectics. 

Gilbert  now  squared  himself  for  an  argument  a 
little  more  obstinate  than  that  from  which  he 
had  just  come  off  victorious.  After  waiting  a 
reasonable  time,  "Well,"  said  he,  "proceed." 

"Proceed  where?"  said  I. 

"With  your  reasons." 

"I've got  no  reasons,"  said  I,  " except  that  your 
wife  thinks  so." 

"Well,  really,"  returned  he,  " that  is  very  pro 
found,  and  proves  you  to  be  the  best  judge  for 


98  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

the  decision  of  my  wife's  controversies  that  she 
could  select/' 

"There  may  be  more  sound  philosophy  in  it," 
rejoined  I,  "than  at  first  appears.  Your  wife  has 
already  proved  herself  to  be  a  better  judge  of 
these  matters  than  both  of  us  put  together,  and 
I  think  I  understand  why  it  is  so.  She  has  had 
ten  times  the  experience  in  them  that  we  have  had. 
Her  habits  of  life  have  been  domestic;  she  has 
seen  children  of  all  ages  and  under  all  circum 
stances;  and  from  sixteen  to  twenty-three  she 
supplied  her  mother's  place  in  her  father's  family." 

"A  very  handsome  retreat,"  said  Gilbert. 

Long  before  the  second  son  arrived  at  the 
reasoning  age  Gilbert  abdicated,  unreservedly,  in 
favor  of  his  wife,  contenting  himself  with  the 
subordinate  station  of  her  ministerial  officer,  in 
which  he  executed  her  orders  in  cases  requiring 
more  physical  strength  than  she  possessed. 


V. 
A  FAMILY  PICTURE. 

I  now  introduce  the  reader  to  the  same  family 
in  the  preceding  sketch,  after  most  of  the  children 
had  reached  the  "age  of  reason."  In  contem 
plating  the  scene  which  I  am  about  to  describe, 
he  will  be  pleased  to  turn  his  thoughts  occasionally 
to  Gilbert's  "principles  of  good  government." 

The  youngest  child  was  some  two  years  and  a 
half  old  when  Gilbert  invited  me  to  breakfast 
with  him  one  December  morning,  near  the  Christ 
mas  holidays.  It  was  the  time  appointed  for  the 
killing  of  hogs,  which,  as  the  Southern  reader 
knows,  is  a  sort  of  family  carnival  in  Georgia. 
The  killing  of  the  fatted  calf  of  the  olden  time 
pales  in  comparison  with  the  family  joy  and 
cheer  at  a  "hog  killing"  on  the  plantation. 

I  went,  and  found  all  the  children  at  home  and 
Gilbert's  mother  added  to  the  family  circle.  James 
and  Anna  had  reached  the  age  when  they  were 
permitted  to  take  seats  at  the  first  table,  though 
upon  this  occasion  James  being  engaged  about  the 
pork,  did  not  avail  himself  of  the  privilege;  the 
rest  of  the  children  were  taught  to  wait  for  the 

(99) 


ioo         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

second  table.  Breakfast  was  announced,  and 
after  the  adults  and  Anna  had  dispatched  their 
meal  the  children  were  summoned.  As  they  had 
been  taught  not  to  seat  themselves  at  the  table 
until  bidden,  and  as  there  were  some  few  prepara 
tory  arrangements  to  be  made,  they  all  gathered 
around  the  fire,  clamorous  with  the  events  of  the 
morning. 

"By  jocky,"  said  William,  "didn't  that  old 
black  barrer  weigh  a  heap!" 

"  Look  here,  young  gentleman,"  said  his  mother, 
"where  did  you  pick  up  such  language  as  that? 
Now  let  me  ever  hear  you  by  jockying,  or  by  any 
thing  else  again,  and  I'll  'by  jocky'  you  with  a 
witness,  I'll  warrant  you." 

"But  the  black  barrer,"  said  George,  "didn't 
weigh  as  much  for  his  size  as  the  bob-tail  speckle, 
though." 

"He  did!" 

"He  didn't!" 

"  Hush  your  disputing — this  instant,  stop  it — 
you  shall  not  contradict  each  other  in  that 
manner.  And  let  us  hear  no  more  of  your  hog 
pen  wonders — nobody  wants  to  hear  them." 

At  this  instant  William  snatched  a  pig-tail  out 
of  Isaac's  hand. 

"Ma,"  said  Isaac,  "make  Bill  gi'  me  muh  tail." 


A  FAMILY  PICTURE  101 

"You  William,  give  him  his — thing.  And  if  I 
was  near  you  I'd  box  your  ears"  for  that  Snatching. 
Mr.  Butler,  you  really  wiir*hav£  to -take, that 
fellow  in  hand.  He's  getting  so  that  I  can  d6 
nothing  with  him." 

"If  he  don't  behave  himself,"  said  Butler  care 
lessly,  "just  turn  him  over  to  me;  I  reckon  I  can 
manage  him." 

"Ma,"  said  Bill,  "he  took  my  blather—" 

"Hush!" 

"I  didn't!" 

"You  did!" 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  to  hush  your  disputing?" 

"Well,  Ma,  Uncle  York  give  it  to  me." 

"He  didn't,  Uncle  Monday  give  it  to  me." 

"He  didn't!" 

"He  did!" 

Here  the  mother  divided  a  pair  of  slaps  equally 
between  the  disputants,  which  silenced  them  for 
a  few  moments. 

At  this  juncture  Miss  Rebecca  cried  out  with 
a  burnt  finger,  which  she  received  in  cooking 
another  pig-tail.  The  burn  was  so  slight  that 
she  forgot  it  as  the  mother  jerked  her  from  the 
fire. 

"You  little  vixen,"  said  the  mother,  "what 
possesses  you  to  be  fumbling  about  the  fire?  Mr. 


102         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Butler,  I  beseech  you  to  forbid  the  negroes  giving 
t^iesie  childreiL  any  more  of  those  horrid  pig-tails. 
They  are  &a  sourqe  of  endless  torment.  And  now, 
young  gentlemen — one  and  all  of  you — the  next 
one  that  brings  one  of  those  things  into  this  house 
again,  I'll  box  his  ears  as  long  as  I  can  find  him. 
Now  remember!  Come  along  to  breakfast." 

In  a  little  time,  after  some  controversy  about 
places,  which  was  arrested  by  the  mother's  eye, 
they  were  all  seated ;  James,  who  had  dropped  in 
in  the  meantime,  taking  his  father's  seat. 

"Is-s-sp!"  said  William,  smacking  his  lips, 
"sassidges!  that's  what  I  love." 

"Poo!"  said  Isaac,  "spare-ribs!  that's  what  I 
love." 

"Well,  cease  your  gab,  and  eat  what's  set  be 
fore  you  without  comment.  Nobody  cares  what 
you  love,  or  what  you  don't  love." 

"Souse,"  said  Abraham,  "I  don't  love  souse — I 
wouldn't  eat  souse — ta'n't  fitten  for  a  dog  to 
eat." 

"Get  up,  sir;  get  right  up  from  the  table,  and 
march  out  of  the  house  until  you  learn  better 
manners.  I'll  be  bound  if  I  say  you  shall  eat 
souse,  you  eat  it.  Do  you  hear  me,  sir?" 

Abraham  raked  himself  lazily  out  of  his  seat, 
and  moved  slowly  off,  casting  a  longing  look  at 


A  FAMILY  PICTURE  103 

the  many  good  things  on  the  table  which  he 
thought  "fitten"  for  a  prince  to  eat. 

"Ma,"  said  he,  as  he  retired,  "I  wish  you'd 
make  Bill  quit  laughing  at  me." 

"William,  I've  as  great  a  mind  as  ever  I  had 
to  do  anything  in  my  life,  to  send  you  from  the 
table  and  not  let  you  eat  one  mouthful.  I  de 
spise  that  abominable  disposition  you  have  of 
rejoicing  at  your  brother's  misfortunes.  Remem 
ber,  sir,  what  Solomon  says :  '  He  that  is  glad  at 
calamities  shall  not  be  unpunished/  " 

"Ma,"  said  Abraham,  "mayn't  I  come  back  to 
breakfast?" 

"Yes,  if  you  think  you  can  now  behave  your 
self  with  decency." 

Abraham  returned;  and  now  they  all  broke 
forth  at  once:  "Ma,  mayn't  I  have  some  sas- 
sidge?"  "Ma,  I  want  some  spare-rib."  "Ma,  I 
a'n't  got  no  coffee."  "Ma,  if  you  please,  ma'am, 
let  me  have  some  ham-gravy,  and  some  fried 
hominy,  and  some  egg,  and — " 

"And  some  everything  on  the  table,  I  sup 
pose!  Put  down  your  plates — every  one  of  you. 
George,  what  will  you  have?" 

"Some  sassidge,  and  some  fried  potato." 

"James,  help  your  brother  George." 

"What  do  you  want,  William?" 


io4         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"  I  want  some  spare-rib  and  some  fried  hominy." 

"Chancy,  help  William." 

"What  do  you  want,  Abraham?" 

"I  reckon,"  said  James,  smiling,  "he'd  like  a 
little  souse." 

"Now,  James,  behave  yourself.  He  has  suf 
fered  the  punishment  of  his  fault,  and  let  it  rest 
there." 

"I'll  have,"  said  Abraham,  "some  ham-gravy 
and  some  egg,  and  some  hominy." 

"  Help  him,  Chaney." 

"  What'll  you  have,  Isaac?" 

"I'll  have  some  ham-gravy,  and  some  hominy, 
and  some  sassidge,  and  some  spare-rib  and  some — " 

"Well,  you're  not  going  to  have  everything  on 
the  table,  I  assure  you.  What  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  some  ham-gravy,  and  some  hominy." 

"James  ,  help  I—" 

"No,  I  don't  want  no  gravy,  I  want  spare-rib." 

"James,  give  him — " 

"No,  I  don't  want  no  spare-rib,  I  want  sas 
sidge-" 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  make  up  your  mind  pretty 
quick;  you'll  want  your  breakfast,  I  tell  you. 
I'm  not  going  to  be  tantalized  all  day  long  with 
your  wants.  Say  what  you  want  and  have  done 
with  it." 


A  FAMILY  PICTURE  105 

"  I  want  some  ham-gravy  and  some  sassidge, 
and  some  hominy." 

"Help  him,  James." 

James  helped  him  to  about  a  teaspoonful  from 
each  dish. 

"Now,  Ma,  jist  look  at  bud  Jim!  He  ha'n't 
gi'  me  only  jist  these  three  little  bits  o'  bites." 

"James,  if  you  can't  keep  from  tantalizing  the 
children,  tell  me  so,  and  I  will  not  trouble  you  to 
help  them  anymore.  I  confess  that  I  am  at  a 
loss  to  discover  what  pleasure  one  of  your  age  can 
take  in  teasing  your  younger  brothers." 

"Rebecca,  what  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  my  pig-tail,  ma'am." 

"Bless  my  soul  and  body,  haven't  you  forgot 
that  pig-tail  yet?  It's  burnt  up  long  ago,  I 
hope.  Look,  Bob,  and  see,  and  if  it  isn't,  give  it 
to  her.  I  wish  in  my  heart  there  was  never  a 
pig-tail  upon  the  face  of  the  earth." 

Bob  produced  the  half-charred  pig-tail  and  laid 
it  on  Miss  Rebecca's  plate. 

"There,"  continued  her  mother,  "I  hope  now 
your  heart's  at  ease.  A  beautiful  dish  it  is  truly 
for  any  mortal  to  take  a  fancy  to. " 

"Ma,  I  don't  want  this  pig-tail." 

"  Take  it  away — I  knew  you  didn't  want  it, 
you  little  perverse  brat !  I  knew  you  didn't  want 


io6         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

it;  and  I  don't  know  what  got  into  me  to  let 
you  have  it.  But  really  I  am  so  tormented  out 
of  my  life  that  half  the  time  I  hardly  know 
whether  I'm  standing  on  my  head  or  my  heels. " 

"  Mis'es,"  said  Chaney,  "Aunt  Dorcas  say  please 
make  Miss  Louisa  come  out  of  the  kitchen — say 
if  you  don't  make  her  come  out  o'  the  fire  she'll 
git  burnt  up  d'rekly — say  every  time  she  tell  her 
to  come  out  o'  the  fire  she  make  mouths  at  her. " 

4 'Why,  sure  enough,  where  is  Louisa?  Go,  and 
tell  her  to  come  in  to  her  breakfast  this  instant. " 

"  I  did  tell  her  ma'am :  and  she  say  she  won't 
come  till  she  gets  done  bakin'  her  cake." 

Mrs.  Butler  left  the  room,  and  soon  appeared 
with  Louisa  sobbing,  and  crying:  "Aunt  Dorcas 
jerked  me  jist  as  hard  as  ever  she  could  jerk, 
'fore  I  did  anything  'tall  to  her." 

"Hold  your  tongue!  She  served  you  right 
enough;  you'd  no  business  in  there.  You're  a 
pretty  thing  to  be  making  mouths  at  a  person  old 
enough  to  be  your  grandmother.  If  I'd  thought 
when  I  gave  you  that  little  lump  of  dough,  that 
the  whole  plantation  was  to  be  turned  upside  down 
I'd  have  let  you  do  without  it." 

Miss  Louisa,  after  a  little  sobbing  and  pouting, 
drew  from  her  apron  a  small,  dirty,  ashy,  black, 
wrinkled,  burnt  biscuit,  warm  from  the  kitchen 


A  FAMILY  PICTURE  107 

shovel,  which  would  have  been  just  precisely  the 
proper  accompaniment  to  Miss  Rebecca's  dish; 
and  upon  this,  in  preference  to  everything  on  the 
table,  she  commenced  her  repast. 

"Well,  Lou,"  said  her  mother  with  a  laugh,  as 
she  cast  her  eye  upon  the  unsightly  biscuit,  "you 
certainly  have  a  strange  taste!" 

Everybody  knows  that  the  mother's  laugh  is 
always  responded  to  with  compound  interest  by 
all  her  children.  So  was  it  in  this  instance;  and 
good  humor  prevailed  around  the  table. 

11  I'm  sorry,"  said  Abraham,  "for  Louisa's 
b-i-s,  bis,  k-i-t,  kit,— biskit. " 

"  Well,  really, "  said  Mrs.  B.  "  You  are  a  hand 
some  speller.  Is  that  the  way  you  spell  biscuit? " 

"I  can  spell  it,  Ma!"  bawled  out  Isaac. 

"Well,  spell  it." 

"B-i-s,   bis— c-    (Well,   that's   right!)—  h— " 

"Ah,  well,  that'll  do,  you  needn't  go  any 
further;  you've  missed  it  farther  than  your 
brother.  Spell  it,  William." 

William  spelled  it  correctly. 

"Ma,"  said  George,  "what  is  biscuit  derived 
from?" 

"I  really  do  not  know,"  said  Mrs.  B.  "And 
yet  I  have  somewhere  read  an  explanation  of  it. 
James,  what  is  it  derived  from?" 


io8         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

James. — "  From  the  French:  bis,  twice,  and  cuit, 
baked." 

Butler. — "Rather  from  two  Latin  words  which 
mean  the  same  thing;  one  of  which  the  French 
have  changed  as  we  have  it,  while  they  have  pre 
served  the  other  unaltered." 

William. — "Why,  Ma,  you  don't  bake  biscuits 
twice  over!" 

Abraham. — "Yes,  Ma  does  sometimes;  don't 
you,  Ma,  when  company  comes?" 

Mother. — "No;  I  sometimes  warm  over  cold 
ones,  when  I  haven't  time  to  make  fresh  ones, 
but  never  bake  them  twice. " 

Butler. — "  They  were  first  made  to  carry  to  sea; 
and  they  were  then  baked  twice  over,  as  I  believe 
sea  biscuits  still  are." 

Isaac. — "Ma,  what's  breakfast  'rived  from?" 

Mother. — "Spell  it,  and  you  will  see." 

Isaac. — "  B-r-e-c-k,  breck,  f-u-s-t,  fust,  breck- 
fust." 

Mother. — "Well,  Ike,  you  are  a  grand  speller. 
Breakfast  is  the  word;  not  breckfust. " 

Abraham. — "  I  know  what  it  comes  from." 

Mother.— "What?" 

Abraham. — "  You  know  when  you  call  us  chil'en 
to  breakfast,  we  all  break  off  and  run  as  fast  as  we 
can  split." 


A  FAMILY  PICTURE  109 

Mother. — "  Well,  that  is  a  brilliant  derivation, 
truly.  Do  you  suppose  there  was  no  breakfast 
before  you  children  were  born?" 

Abraham. — "  But,  Ma,  everybody  has  chil'en." 

Mrs.  Butler  explained  the  term. 

Isaac. — "Ma,  I  know  what  sassidge  comes  from." 

Mother.— -What?" 

Isaac. — "  'Cause  it's  got  sass  in  it. " 

Mother — "Well  there,  there,  there,  I've  got 
enough  of  your  derivations  unless  they  are  better. 
You'll  learn  all  these  things  when  you  grow  older. " 

Just  here  Miss  Sarah,  who  had  been  breakfasting 
at  a  side-table,  was  seized  with  a  curiosity  to  see 
what  was  on  the  breakfast  table. 

Accordingly  she  undertook  to  draw  herself  up 
to  a  convenient  elevation  by  the  table  cloth.  Her 
mother  arrested  her  just  in  time  to  save  a  cup, 
and  pushed  her  aside  with  a  gentle  admonition. 
This  did  not  in  the  least  abate  Miss  Sarah's 
curiosity,  and  she  recommenced  her  experiment. 
Her  mother  removed  her  a  little  more  emphatic 
ally  this  time.  These  little  interruptions  only 
fired  Miss  Sarah's  zeal;  and  she  was  returning  to 
the  charge  with  redoubled  energy,  when  she  ran 
her  cheek  against  the  palm  of  her  mother's  hand 
with  a  rubific  force. 

Away   she   went   to   her  grandmother,  crying, 


no         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Gramma,    Ma   whipped  your   prettous   darlin' 
angel  baby." 

"  Did  she,  my  darling !  Then  grandma 's  precious 
darling  angel  baby  must  be  a  good  child,  and 
mother  won't  whip  it  any  more. " 

"  Well,  I  will  be  a  dood  chile. " 

"  Well,  then,  mother  won't  whip  it  any  more. " 
And  this  conference  was  kept  up  without  the  varia 
tion  of  a  letter  on  either  side  until  the  grand 
mother  deemed  it  expedient  to  remove  Miss  Sarah 
to  an  adjoining  room,  lest  the  mother  should  insist 
upon  the  immediate  fulfilment  of  her  promises. 

"  Ma,  just  look  at  Abe ! ' '  cried  out  William.  "  He 
saw  me  going  to  take  a  biscuit,  and  he  snatched 
up  the  very  one  I  was  going  to  take. " 

"Abe,"  said  the  mother,  "I  do  wish  I  could 
make  you  quit  nicknaming  each  other ;  and  I  wish 
more  that  I  had  never  set  you  the  example.  Put 
down  that  biscuit,  sir,  and  take  another." 

Abraham  returned  the  biscuit,  and  William  took 
it  up  with  a  sly  but  triumphant  giggle  at  Abra 
ham. 

"Ma,"  said  Abraham,  "  Bill  said 'God  durn.'" 

"La,  what  a  story!  Ma,  I  declare  I  never 
said  no  such  thing.  " 

"Yes  you  did,  and  Chaney  heard  you." 

William's    countenance    immediately    showed 


A  FAMILY  PICTURE  m 

that  his  memory  had  been  refreshed;  and  he 
drawled  out,  ''I  never  nohow,"  with  a  tone  and 
countenance  that  plainly  imparted  guilt  to  some 
extent.  His  mother  suspected  he  was  hinging 
upon  technics,  and  she  put  the  probing  question — 

"  Well,  what  did  you  say?' ' 

"I  said,  'I  be  tetotly    'od-durn.'  " 

"And  that's  just  as  bad.  Mr.  Butler,  you 
positively  will  have  to  take  this  boy  in  hand.  He 
evinces  a  strong  propensity  to  profane  swearing 
which  if  not  corrected  immediately  will  become 
ungovernable. " 

"  Whenever  you  can't  manage  him, "  said  Butler 
as  before,  "  just  turn  him  over  to  me,  and  I  reckon 
I  can  cure  him." 

It  is  due  to  Butler  here  to  state  that  it  was 
mutually  understood  between  him  and  his  wife, 
that  her  credit  was  not  staked  upon  these  general 
drafts,  and  therefore  he  did  not  feel  himself  bound 
to  honor  them;  but  whenever  she  valued  on  him 
(as  the  merchants  say)  for  a  specific  amount  or  a 
special  purpose,  her  bills  were  never  dishonored. 

"When  did  he  say  it?"  inquired  the  mother, 
returning  to  Abraham. 

"You  know  that  time  you  sent  us  all  to  the 
new  ground  to  pick  peas?" 

"Why,  that's  been  three  months  ago  at  least; 


112 


STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 


and  you've  just  thought  now  of  telling  it!  Oh, 
you  malicious  toad,  you.  Where  do  you  learn  to 
bear  malice  so  long?  I  abhor  that  trait  of  char 
acter  in  a  child. " 

"Ma,"  said  Bill,  "Abe  ha'n't  said  his  prayers 
for  three  nights. ' ' 

Abe  and  Bill  now  swapped  places  and  coun 
tenances. 

"Yes,"  said  the  mother,  "and  I  suppose  I 
should  never  have  heard  of  that  if  Abraham 
had  not  told  of  your  profanity. " 

"I  know  better,"  dragged  out  Abraham,  in 
reply  to  William. 

"Abraham,"  said  the  mother  solemnly,  "did 
you  kneel  down  when  you  said  your  prayers  last 
night?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Abraham,  brightening  a 
little. 

"Yes,  Ma,"  continued  Bill,  "he  kneels  down 
and  'fore  I  say  'now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep' 
he  jumps  up  every  night  and  hops  in  bed  and 
says  he's  done  said  his  prayers,  and  he  ha'n't  had 
time  to  say  half  a  one." 

During  this  narrative,  my  namesake  kept 
cowering  under  the  steadfast  frown  of  his  mother, 
until  he  transformed  himself  into  a  perfect  per 
sonification  of  idiocy. 


A  FAMILY  PICTURE  113 

"  How  many  prayers  did  you  say  last  night, 
Abraham?"  pursued  the  mother  in  an  awfully 
portentous  tone. 

"I  said  one,  and — "  (here  Abraham  paused). 

"One  and  what?" 

"One  and  piece  of  t'other  one." 

"Why,  Ma,  he  could'nt  ha'  said  it  to  save  his 
life,  for  he  hadn't  time — " 

"Hush,  sir,  I  don't  ask  for  your  assistance." 

"I  did,"  muttered  Abraham,  "I  said  t'other 
piece  after  I  got  in  bed." 

"Abraham,"  said  his  mother,  "I  declare  I  do 
not  know  what  to  say  to  you.  I  am  so  mortified, 
so  shocked,  at  this  conduct,  that  I  am  completely  Av 
at  a  loss  how  to  express  myself  about  it.  Suppose 
you  had  died  last  night  after  trifling  with 
your  prayers  as  you  did;  who  can  say  what 
would  have  become  of  you?  Is  it  possible  that 
you  cannot  spend  a  few  minutes  in  prayer  to  your 
heavenly  Father,  who  feeds  you,  who  clothes  you, 
and  who  gives  you  everything  you  have  in  the 
world!  You  poor  sinful  child,  I  could  weep  over 
you!" 

Poor  Abraham  evinced  such  deep  contrition 
under  this  lecture  (for  he  sobbed  as  if  his  heart 
would  break)  that  his  mother  deemed  it  prudent 
to  conclude  with  suasives,  which  she  did  in  the 


ii4       "STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

happiest  manner.  Having  thus  restored  Abra 
ham's  equanimity  in  a  measure,  with  a  gently 
encouraging  smile,  she  continued: 

"  And  now,  Abraham,  tell  your  mother  how  you 
came  to  say  a  second  prayer?" 

"I  couldn't  go  to  sleep  till  I  said  it,  ma'am." 
"  Well,  that  is  a  good  sign  at  least.     And  what 
part  was  it?" 

"  God  bless  my  father  and  my  mother. " 
Mrs.  Butler  felt  quickly  for  her  handkerchief. 
It  had  fallen  from  her  lap,  and  she  was  glad  of  it. 
She  depressed  her  head  below  the  table  in  search 
of  it — dismissed  the  children  before  she  raised  it — 
and  then  rose  with  a  countenance  suffused  with 
smiles  and  tears. 

"My  poor  children,"  said  she,  "what  an  odd 
compound  of  good  and  bad  they  are !"  The  grand 
mother  returned  just  at  this  time,  and  displaying 
some  uneasiness  at  Mrs.  Butler's  tears,  the  latter 
explained.  As  she  concluded — "The  Lord  bless 
the  poor  dear  boy,"  exclaimed  the  venerable  ma 
tron,  raising  her  apron  to  her  eyes,  "that  shows 
he's  got  a  good  heart.  No  danger  of  the  child 
that  can't  sleep  till  he  prays  for  his  father  and 
mother." 


VI. 
THE  OLD  WOMEN. 

A   TRIBUTE. 

I  love  the  aged  matrons  of  our  land.  As  a 
class,  they  are  the  most  pious,  the  most  benev 
olent,  the  most  useful  and  the  most  harmless  of 
the  human  family. 

Their  life  is  a  life  of  good  offices.  At  home,  they 
are  patterns  of  industry,  care,  economy  and 
hospitality;  abroad,  they  are  ministers  of  com 
fort,  peace,  and  consolation.  Where  affliction  is, 
there  are  they  to  mitigate  its  pangs ;  where  sorrow 
is,  there  are  they  to  assuage  its  pains. 

Nor  night,  nor  day,  nor  summer's  heat,  nor 
winter's  cold,  nor  angry  elements,  can  deter  them 
from  scenes  of  suffering  and  distress. 

They  are  first  at  the  fevered  couch,  and  the 
last  to  leave  it.  They  hold  the  cup  to  the  parched 
lip,  they  bind  the  aching  head,  close  the  dying  eye, 
and  linger  in  the  death-stricken  habitation  to 
pour  the  last  drop  of  consolation  into  the  afflicted 
bosoms  of  the  bereaved. 


("5) 


VII. 
THE  MATCHMAKER. 

JULIA    AND    CLARISSA. 

In  times  gone  by  there  resided  in  the  village 

of a  widow  lady  whose  name  was  Carp. 

She  was  a  woman  of  good  practical  sense,  great 
industry,  and  commendable  economy,  so  that 
the  estate  left  her  by  her  husband,  consisting  of 
all  he  had,  and  just  enough  to  place  her  in  com 
fortable  circumstances,  rather  increased  than  di 
minished  under  her  management.  Her  educa 
tion  was  very  limited,  but  her  manners  were, 
upon  the  whole,  agreeable;  though,  as  she  often 
said  herself,  "she  was  not  mealy-mouthed  about 
telling  people  what  she  thought  of  them,  if 
they  came  putting  on  airs  about  her;  for  she 
thought  herself  as  good  as  Mrs.  Anybody."  It 
was  her  honor — or  her  fault,  as  the  reader  may 
esteem  it — that  she  never  married  again,  after 
the  death  of  her  husband;  though  she  might 
have  done  so.  She,  therefore,  as  three  or  four 
other  widows  have  done  in  the  United  States, 
falsified  the  remark  of  one  of  her  townsmen, 
viz:  "Cut  a  widow's  finger,  and  if  it'll  bleed 

(116) 


THE  MATCHMAKER  117 

she'll  marry  again."  By  her  husband's  decease, 
Mrs.  Carp  was  left  in  charge  of  two  children  of 
tender  years.  The  oldest  was  a  son  whose  name 
was  Osborn;  the  youngest  was  a  daughter 
whose  name  was  Julia.  To  both,  the  mother 
gave  as  good  an  education  as  could  be  got  at 
the  best  schools  in  the  State. 

About  ten  years  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Carp, 
died  the  wealthiest  citizen  of  the  village,  Mr. 
Gage,  leaving  a  clear  estate  of  sixty  thousand 
dollars,  to  be  divided  equally  between  his  widow 
and  a  daughter,  his  only  child.  The  loss  of  her 
husband  nearly  cost  Mrs.  Gage  her  life.  So 
deep  and  inconsolable  was  her  grief  that  the 
whole  village  became  alarmed  for  her  safety. 
If  she  received  any  solace  for  a  month  after  her 
bereavement,  it  was  from  Mrs.  Carp,  who  had 
proved  her  devotion  to  her  husband,  and  there 
fore  had  gained  the  esteem  and  respect  of  Mrs. 
Gage;  and  who  endeared  herself  to  her  still 
more,  by  weeping  for  her  own  husband  afresh, 
as  often  as  Mrs.  Gage  wept  for  hers,  and  de 
scribing  Mrs.  Gage's  present  feelings  in  her  own 
past  history.  Either  from  these  kind  offices  of 
Mrs.  Carp,  or  because  violent  grief  necessarily 
soon  wears  itself  out,  or  both,  Mrs.  Gage's  grief 
was  so  far  assuaged  in  the  course  of  two  months, 


n8         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

or  less,  that  she  could  calmly  visit  the  church. 
Though  it  is  a  little  aside  from  my  purpose,  I 
cannot  forbid  to  mention  here  how  the  wounds 
of  the  afflicted  lady's  bosom,  yet  uncicatrized, 
were  torn  open  afresh  by  one  of  those  unfeeling 
wretches  who  can  sport  over  the  grave  of  wo 
man's  hopes  and  jest  at  the  widow's  tears.  But 
thrice  had  Mrs.  Gage  gone  to  church  before  the 
barbarian  just  alluded  to  remarked,  "that  he 
saw  plainly  that  Mrs.  Gage  thought,  already, 
twice  of  a  live  man,  where  she  thought  once  of 
a  dead  one."  It  may  be  a  salutary  warning  to 
such  unfeeling  creatures,  to  be  informed  that 
this  remark  soon  reached  the  ears  of  Mrs.  Gage, 
and  it  distressed  her  to  such  a  degree  that  she 
resolved  never  to  leave  the  house  again;  and 
to  this  resolution  she  would  have  undoubtedly 
adhered  but  for  the  entreaty  of  her  friends,  and 
other  considerations.  Her  daughter,  Clarissa, 
found  a  tender  and  sympathizing  friend  in  Julia, 
and  a  still  more  tender  and  sympathizing  friend 
in  Osborn.  The  attachment  of  the  girls  to  each 
other  increased  with  their  years. 

Mrs.  Gage,  finding  herself  in  her  distress  of 
mind  utterly  incapable  of  managing  so  large  an 
estate,  on  the  May  succeeding  the  September  in 
which  Mr.  Gage  died,  gave  her  part  of  it,  with 


THE  MATCHMAKER  n9 

her  hand  and  the  guardianship  of  her  daughter,  to 
Parson  Dove,  a  gentleman  of  great  merit,  to 
whom  she  was  indebted  for  many  consolations. 
Soon  after  this  union,  Clarissa  was  sent  to  a  dis 
tant  State  to  complete  her  education.  She  re 
turned  after  an  absence  of  three  years,  in  all 
respects  greatly  improved.  The  two  young  la 
dies  now  became  like  twin  sisters.  They  could 
not  be  separated  more  than  two  days  at  a  time, 
and  if  they  were  that  long  apart,  several  affec 
tionate  or  playful  notes  passed  between  them. 
They  dressed  alike,  put  up  their  hair  alike,  called 
each  other  cousin,  slept  together  almost  every 
night,  interchanged  all  the  secrets  they  had  (and 
some  that  they  had  not),  kissed  whenever  they 
met  or  parted,  and,  in  short,  gave  every  mani 
festation  of  attachment  that  girls  could  give. 
There  was  a  shade  of  difference  between  Clarissa 
and  Julia,  but  it  was  very  slight.  Clarissa 
would  sometimes  purchase  articles  without  first 
consulting  her  friend;  this  Julia  never  did;  and 
Clarissa  always  dropped  to  sleep,  leaving  Julia 
talking — and  Julia  never  was  so  impolite.  It 
was  well  that  she  was  not,  or  it  is  likely  they 
would  have  got  no  sleep  at  all  when  they  occu 
pied  the  same  bed ;  for,  as  it  was,  they  generally 
talked  until  after  midnight. 


120         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

In  the  meantime,  Osborn,  while  he  had  all  his 
own  feeling  towards  Clarissa  (and  they  were  of 
the  tenderest  kind),  partook  somewhat  of  his 
sister's.  He  called  Clarissa  coz  too — laughed 
and  jested  with  the  girls  with  a  brotherly  famil 
iarity,  and,  indeed,  treated  them  in  all  respects 
alike;  except  that  when  he  compared  their 
hands  to  see  which  was  the  largest  or  handsom 
est,  he  pressed  Clarissa's  a  little  harder,  and  held 
it  a  little  longer,  than  he  did  Julia's;  and  except 
that  when  he  exchanged  their  rings,  it  took  him 
longer  to  get  off  and  put  on  Clarissa's  than 
Julia's;  and  except  that  when  he  and  Clarissa 
were  alone,  he  seemed  to  have  much  more  fre 
quent  yearnings  for  the  sentimental  than  he 
had  when  he  and  his  sister  were  alone;  and  ex 
cept  that  when  he  was  gallanting  both,  he  held 
Clarissa's  arm  a  little  closer  to  his  side  than  he 
did  Julia's,  and  paid  a  little  more  attention  to 
her  remarks  than  to  Julia's,  and  smiled  a  little 
more  benignantly  upon  them.  With  these  ex 
ceptions,  and  a  few  others  of  no  more  import 
ance,  Osborn  extended  the  same  conduct  to 
both  the  girls — and  it  met  with  precisely  the 
same  return  from  both — except  that  in  the  ring 
scenes  Clarissa  would  disengage  her  hand  from 
Osborn's  after  a  while,  and  Julia  would  not; 


THE  MATCHMAKER 


121 


and  in  the  sentimental  scenes  Clarissa  would 
always  laugh  them  off,  with  a  careless  levity, 
while  Julia  would  take  a  lively  interest  in  them — 
and  except  that  his  sister  sometimes  gave  him  a 
kiss  at  parting,  which  Clarissa  never  did.  Never 
theless,  Clarissa  treated  Osborn  with  great  good 
humor  and  kindness.  Thus  matters  went  on 
for  eighteen  months, — and  as  I  have  nothing  of 
more  interest  to  fill  up  the  interim,  I  will  fill  it 
up  so  far  as  the  reader  will  allow,  with 

YOUNG    NIGHT    THOUGHTS. 

"Oh,  Clarissa,"  said  Julia,  one  evening,  as 
soon  as  they  had  composed  their  heads  on  their 
pillows:  "I  often  think  of  the  time  when  we 
must  separate,  and  it  almost  breaks  my  heart. 
When  shall  I  find  another  friend  that  I  love  so 
dearly?  I  don't  remember  that  we  ever  differed 
in  opinion  in  all  our  lives." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Clarissa.  "But  it  will  be  long, 
I  hope,  before  we  part."  And  here  they  em 
braced  and  kissed. 

"No,  Clarissa,  you  will  soon  get  married,  and 
then  farewell  to  poor  Julia." 

"Oh!  Julia,  I  hope  you  don't  think  that  if  I 
were  to  get  married  (which  I  have  not  the  most 
distant  idea  of)  that  it  would  lessen  my  affec- 


122         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

tion  for  you.  I've  had  my  own  feelings  too  much 
hurt  in  that  way,  ever  to  treat  another  in  the 
same  way.  You've  often  heard  me  speak  of 
my  old  schoolmate,  Betsy  Willis  ?" 

"Yes;  and  sometimes  I  have  felt  right  jealous 
of  her." 

"  I  loved  Betsy  dearly — and  when  we  parted 
we  promised  solemnly  that  we  would  write  to 
each  other  every  month,  at  least,  as  long  as  we 
lived.  Well,  we  corresponded  for  about  six 
months,  when  she  got  married,  and  I  have  not 
received  a  line  from  her  since.  And,  would  you 
believe  it,  I  heard  her  fairly  abuse  Fanny  Saw 
yer  for  the  very  self-same  thing.  I  never  ex 
pected  Betsy  would  have  served  me  so.  It 
was  the  same  way  with  Caroline  Wild,  Sarah 
Marshall  and  Mary  Jones.  Think  you  that  I 
could  ever  act  thus  toward  you?" 

"Oh!  no,"  said  Julia,  "I  have  no  idea  you 
would  lose  your  affection  for  me;  but  then  you 
would  move  away  to  some  far  distant  land, 
where  I  should  never  see  you  again ;  and  I  don't 
believe  that  I  should  get  over  it  as  long  as  I  live. 
But  how  common  it  is  for  girls  as  soon  as  they 
get  married,  to  forget  their  old  friends.  There 
must  be  something  very  enrapturing  in  the  mar 
ried  state,  Clarissa." 


THE  MATCHMAKER  123 

"  Oh !  I've  no  doubt, ' '  returned  Clarissa,  "  that  it 
is  the  most  blissful  state  on  earth,  when  founded 
on  pure  affection." 

"Nor  I.  I  can't  conceive  of  anything  so  trans 
porting  as  to  be  able  to  call  that  object  upon 
which  your  heart  dotes,  your  own." 

Here  the  girls  embraced. 

"Julia,  I  do  love  you,"  said  Clarissa. 

"Oh,  Clarissa!"  said  Julia,  plaintively — and 
they  wept,  I  know  not  why. 

"Will  you  ever  leave  me,  Clarissa?"  said  Julia, 
after  a  short  pause. 

"Never.  If  I  should  get  married  (and  cer 
tainly  it  shall  not  be  for  three  years  to  come ;  for 
Ma  says  she  will  never  consent  to  my  marrying 
before  I  'm  twenty-one) — if  I  should  get  married. 
I  never  will  leave  this  village." 

"Oh!  Clarissa,  how  happy  I  am  to  hear  you 
say  that!  But  what  objection  has  your  Ma  to 
your  marrying  now?  I  am  sure  you  are  old 
enough." 

"Yes;  but  she  thinks  it's  not  prudent  for  girls 
to  marry  too  young.  She  says  it  is  the  most 
important  step  that  can  be  taken  in  this  life,  and 
therefore  should  not  be  taken  without  the  great 
est  care  and  deliberation.  She  can't  bear  hasty 
marriages." 


124         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Well,  my  mother  thinks  that  a  girl  should 
never  wait  longer  than  till  she's  seventeen;— 
that's  the  time,  she  says,  when  the  heart  is  ten- 
derest  and  the  affections  warmest  and  when 
girls  are  most  apt  to  marry  for  love.  Do,  Cla 
rissa,  get  married  at  once, — I'm  so  afraid  you  will 
change  your  mind  about  leaving  the  village." 

"What,  against  my  mother's  counsel?" 

"Oh!  no;  but  I'm  sure  your  mother  never 
would  object  if  she  knew  your  happiness  de 
pended  upon  it." 

"No,  I  don't  suppose  she  would;  but  remem 
ber,  coz,  I've  no  offer  as  yet." 

"But  you  have  had  four  already,  and  doubt 
less  soon  will  have  another;  and  do  take  the 
next." 

"Well,  if  he's  a  right  clever  fellow,  maybe  I 
will.  But  you  don't  seem  to  recollect  that  you 
may  marry  and  go  off  and  leave  me." 

"No,  Clarissa,"  said  Julia,  pensively;  "my 
circumstances  are  such  that  I  cannot  hope  to 
marry  soon.  My  father  was  once  rich, — I've 
heard  my  mother  say  that  just  before  brother 
Osborn  was  born,  he  was  worth  twenty  thou 
sand  dollars,  and  in  two  short  years  he  lost  nearly 
all  of  it,  by  being  security  for  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Smith." 


THE  MATCHMAKER  125 

Julia  wept  over  her  father's  shattered  fortune, 
and  Clarissa  gave  her  a  sympathetic  embrace 
and  a  sigh  of  condolence. 

"But,  Julia,"  said  Clarissa,  "I  always  thought 
your  father  was  in  easy  circumstances ;  wasn't  he? " 

"Oh,  yes;  he  had  a  plenty  to  live  on,  and  to 
live  comfortably,  but  he  left  barely  enough  to 
support  his  family.  When  I  think  what  my 
father  has  been,  and  how  he  was  reduced  by  the 
meanness  of  that  man  Smith,  I  almost  wish  there 
never  had  been  a  man  in  the  world.  I  know 
it's  foolish,  but  if  you'll  believe  me,  I  never  have 
been  able  to  like  a  man  named  Smith.  Have 
you  ever  noticed  how  few  of  them  are  distin 
guished?  Almost  all  of  them  have  some  fault, 
and  I  don't  think  I  ever  knew  one  who  made 
a  truly  devoted,  affectionate  husband;  they  are 
always  cross  and  crabbed  to  their  wives.  Just 
look  how  John  treats  his  wife.  But  though  I 
never  can  hope  to  be  rich,  yet  I  know  that  as 
long  as  brother  Osborn  lives  I  shall  never  want. 
He  is  one  of  the  best  of  brothers  to  me,  and  one 
the  best  of  sons  to  my  mother.  There  is  not  a 
wish  of  our  hearts  that  he  can  gratify,  that  he 
does  not.  We  both  have  to  scold  him  some 
times  right  sharply  for  exposing  his  health  too 
much  on  our  account.  If  either  of  us  be  the 


i26         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

least  unwell,  you  can  hardly  force  him  from  our 
bedside.  I  do  believe  that  a  long  spell  of  sick 
ness  of  either  of  us  would  cost  him  his  life.  He 
will  sit  up  from  night's  end  to  night's  end;  and 
when  urged  to  go  to  bed  he  will  say,  'why, 
mother,  I  could  not  rest  if  I  were  to  retire* — 
'  why,  sister,  I  assure  you  I  am  not  sleepy ' — ("  Not 
much,"  said  Clarissa,  softly) — sometimes,  when 
he  tells  me  so,  I  say  to  him — but,  brother  Os- 
born,  I  know  you  are  sleepy — " 

"Emph?"  said  Clarissa,  like  the  twang  of  a 
fiddle-string.  "No,  indeed,  I  am  not  sleeping, 
Julia;  I  hear  every  word  you  say.  Which  of 
the  Smiths  was  it  treated  your  father  so?" 

"Turner,"  said  Julia,  crustily. 

"Yes,  let's  turn  over"  said  Clarissa,  sweetly. 

SECOND    NIGHT. 

Mr.  Smith  passed  away,  and  Dr.  Ward,  a 
young  physician  of  genteel  person  and  agree 
able  manners,  began  to  visit  Clarissa.  "Ward 
is  quite  an  agreeable  young  man,"  said  Clarissa, 
as  she  and  her  companion  composed  themselves 
in  the  Talkery.  "Oh,  Clarissa!"  exclaimed  Julia, 
"how  can  you  say  so!  I  think  he  is  the  most 
affected  creature  I  ever  saw.  He  is  not  near  as 
interesting  a  man  as  Mr.  Smith." 


THE  MATCHMAKER  127 

"Oh,  yes,  he  is  much  more  interesting  than 
Smith;  I  thought  you  didn't  like  Smith." 

"No,  I  did  not,  much.  But  I  thought  him  far 
more  agreeable  than  Dr.  Ward.  But  I'm  prej 
udiced  against  physicians,  I  suppose.  I  don't 
believe  I  could  be  induced  to  marry  a  physician 
if  there  was  not  another  man  in  the  world." 

"Why,  Julia?" 

"Oh,  I've  heard  too  much  about  them." 

"But  you  never  heard  anything  about  Dr. 
Ward,  did  you?" 

"Haven't  you?" 

"No,  never." 

"You  never  heard  anything  about  Dr.  Ward!" 

"Never,  I've  always  understood  he  was  a  very 
moral  man." 

"Well,"  said  Julia,  thoughtfully,  "I  dare  say 
he  is — sometimes  I  get  so  mad  with  myself,  for 
letting  my  thoughtless  tongue  run  on  so,  that  I 
think  I  never  will  speak  again.  Forgive  me, 
Clarissa,  if  I  have  hurt  your  feelings.  I'd  rather 
die  than  offend  you. ' '  She  wept. 

"Why,  Julia,"  said  Clarissa,  embracing  her, 
"what  is  the  matter  with  you?  You  have  said 
nothing  to  offend  me,  I  assure  you.  Do  you 
think  I  care  anything  about  Dr.  Ward — why  I 
am  hardly  acquainted  with  him." 


i28         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"  Well,  Clarissa,  I  want  you  to  make  one 
promise,  will  you?" 

"Yes,  with  pleasure." 

"Well,  if  you  and  Dr.  Ward  should  ever  get 
married,  do  not  tell  him  what  I  have  said.  It 
was  a  foolish  thing  and  I  am  sorry  for  it." 

"That  I  promise  most  cheerfully,"  said  Cla 
rissa,  laughing,  "and  I'll  promise  you  more  than 
that — that  I'll  never  marry  Dr.  Ward  as  long  as 
I  live." 

"Then  I'm  safe,"  exclaimed  Julia,  exultingly, 
and  she  pressed  Clarissa  to  her  bosom  with  a 
lover's  ardor,  and  covered  her  face  with  kisses; 
"you  have  made  me  the  happiest  of  beings.  I 
thought  you  were  pleased  with  Dr.  Ward.  I 
knew  he  would  court  you,  and  it  flashed  upon  my 
mind — Clarissa  may  marry  him,  and  then  she 
will  tell  him  all  I  have  said,  and  he  will  despise 
me,  and  soon  wean  her  affections  from  me,  and 
then  I  shall  be  miserable  as  long  as  I  live.  I'm 
sure,  Clarissa,  it  would  make  me  completely 
wretched  to  lose  your  affections." 

"But  you  said  nothing;  and  surely  had  you 
seen  me  going  to  marrry  him,  you  would  not 
have  permitted  me  to  have  done  so  without  dis 
closing  to  me  anything  you  knew  affecting  his 
moral  character." 


THE  MATCHMAKER  129 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  done  so ;  but  really,  Cla 
rissa,  I  love  you  so  much,  and  am  so  much  afraid 
of  losing  your  affections,  that  half  the  time  I  do 
not  know  how  to  act." 

"But  what  has  Dr.  Ward  done?  You  haven't 
told  me  that  yet." 

"Oh,  let  it  pass,  Clarissa;  it's  a  matter  of  no 
consequence.  We  oughtn't  to  speak  ill  of  any 
one,  brother  Osborn  says.  I  don't  think  I  ever 
heard  him  speak  a  harsh  word  of  a  human  being 
in  my  life.  Did  you,  Clarissa?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  ever  did.  I've  always 
thought  he  possessed  a  most  amiable  disposi 
tion." 

"Clarissa,  you  do  not  know  him.  You  never 
can  know  him  unless  you  live  in  the  same  family 
with  him." 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  yet  what  Dr.  Ward 
has  done." 

"Why,  Clarissa,  what  makes  you  so  anxious 
to  hear  that?  You  alarm  me  again.  You  can 
talk  of  nothing  but  Dr.  Ward,  Clarissa!  Cla 
rissa!  Clarissa!  why,  Clarissa!  what's  the 
matter?" 

"Nothing."     (Pensively.) 

"Something  is  the  matter  with  you." 

"No,  I  believe  nothing's  the  matter." 

9 


130         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"There  is,  for  you're  shedding  tears."  (Em- 
bracing  her.)  "  Oh,  my  dear  coz,  if  I've  offended 
you,  I  ask  your  pardon.  I  did  not  mean  to  hurt 
your  feelings.  Won't  you  forgive  me,  Clarissa?" 
(Weeping.)  "I  declare  I  don't  know  what  I  said 
to  wound  your  feelings." 

"Julia,"  said  Clarissa,  after  a  long  pause  in 
which  they  remained  embraced  like  parting 
lovers,  "have  I  ever  proved  myself  unworthy  of 
your  confidence?" 

"Why,  no.  Why  do  you  ask  such  a  question? 
There  is  not  a  secret  of  my  heart  that  I  have 
not  told  you.  Oh,  Clarissa,  how  could  you  sus 
pect  me  of " 

"Well,  don't  weep,  Julia.  You  have  always 
opened  your  heart  freely  to  me,  and  therefore  I 
felt  pained  that  you  should  now  distrust  me, 
when  I  have  never  breathed  a  secret  of  yours  to 
any  human  being  living.  I  could  not  account 
for  it.  It  seemed  to  me  so  strange  that  you 
should  refuse  to  intrust  me  with  the  only  secret 
I  ever  asked  you  to  communicate,  that  I  could 
not  but  feel  hurt." 

"Why,  Clarissa,  I  do  not  know  of  any  secret 
that  1  have  ever  held  from  you,  and  I'm  sure  I 
never  have  withheld  one  that  you  asked  me  to 
tell." 


THE  MATCHMAKER  131 

"Yes,  Julia,  I  asked  you  twice  distinctly  to 
tell  me  what  Dr.  Ward  had  done.  But  I  sup 
pose  you  didn't  hear  me;  for  I  can't  believe  I 
have  lost  your  confidence." 

"Pshaw,  why  is  that  all?  (Laughing.)  Why 
it  was  such  a  trifling  matter  that  I  did  not  think 
it  worth  telling.  Everybody  knows  it.  He  was 
called  to  see  Miss  Billington,  who  was  taken  ill 
with  a  fever;  she  was  very  ill,  and  not  expected 
to  live.  One  day  when  Dr.  Ward  was  in  the 
room  with  her  alone,  old  Mrs.  M'Corkle  hap 
pened  to  step  in,  and  what  should  she  see  but 
Dr.  Ward,  holding  her  hand  and  kissing  her." 

"And  did  she  submit  to  it?" 

"  Why,  poor  girl,  I  expect  she  was  so  low  that 
she  was  unconscious  of  it.  What  a  brute  he 
must  be,  to  take  advantage  of  his  profession 
and  the  sickness  of  his  patient  to  insult  her  in 
that  way!" 

"And  what  did  Mrs.  M'Corkle  do?  Did  she 
tell  her  parents?" 

"  Oh,  no,  she  told  Mrs.  Frisby  of  it,  and  she 
told  Mrs.  Clacket,  and  Mrs.  Clacket  told  Ma, 
who  told  brother,  who  told  me — Oh,  he  can't 
bear  the  sight  of  Ward.  I  reckon,  Clarissa,  he 
has  the  tenderest  regard  for  female  character  of 
any  being  you  ever  saw," 


i32         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Did  Miss  Billington  die?" 

"No,  she's  just  getting  about  again;  and  peo 
ple  say  that  she  is  the  most  changed  being  they 
ever  saw.  They  say  she  looks  despondent  and 
melancholy;  and  they  do  so  say — but  I  don't 
know  that  I  ought  to  tell  that.  If  brother 
Osborn  knew  that  I'd  told  you  all  this,  he'd  be 
very  angry  with  me.  He  said  he  told  me  of  it, 
to  put  me  on  my  guard;  and  that  nothing  else 
would  ever  have  induced  him  to  broach  it  even 
to  me.  But  I  know  he'd  have  no  objection  to 
my  telling  it  to  you,  for  he  feels  to  you  as  a 
brother." 

"I  thought  I  saw  that  he  seemed  a  little  dis 
tant  and  reserved  towards  Dr.  Ward  when  they 
met  here,  and  I  couldn't  account  for  it;  for  the 
Doctor  seemed  to  be  very  respectful  to  him.  Oh, 
Julia,  who  is  to  be  trusted?  I  thought  Dr.  Ward 
was  an  extremely  modest  man.  Sometimes  I 
wish  there  never  was  a  man  upon  earth.  I  don't 
believe  there's  a  virtuous  one  in  Georgia." 

"Yes,  there's  one,  Clarissa,  if  no  other — and 
that's  brother  Osborn.  He's  as  pure  a  being  as 
ever  drew  the  breath  of  life." 

"  I  've  no  doubt  but  that  he's  as  pure  as  the 
most  of  them;  but  suppose  he  was  not,  do  you 
think  you  would  know  it?" 


THE  MATCHMAKER  i33 

"Know  it!  yes.  There's  not  a  thought  of  his 
heart  that  he  conceals  from  me.  Did  you  ever 
hear  the  first  whisper  against  his  reputation, 
Clarissa?" 

"No,  nothing  but  the  affair  with  Miss  M'Girk; 
and  you  know  I  never  believed  that." 

"It  was  as  base  a  falsehood  as  was  ever  told 
upon  man.  I  had  it  from  his  own  lips  that  it 
was  a  lip.  Oh,  Clarissa,  can  you  believe  that 
brother  Osborn  could  ever  degrade  himself  so 
low  as  to  address  that  Pol.  M'Girk?" 

"No,  Julia,  I  never  did  believe  it;  but  you 
asked  me  if  I'd  ever  heard  of  anything  against 
him.  I  never  heard  the  particulars,  but  report 
said  he  treated  Mary  M'Girk  badly." 

"No,  this  was  the  way  of  it.  Pol.  M'Girk 
was  dead  in  love  with  him,  and  she  did  not  pre 
tend  to  conceal  it.  She  threw  herself  in  his  way 
wherever  he  went.  Ma  warned  him  against 
her,  and  told  him  to  keep  out  of  her  company.  \f 
'Well,'  said  he,  'mother,  I  do  as] much  as  I  can, 
but  she  puts  herself  in  my  way,  and  I  must  treat 
her  with  civility.  What  can  I  do  when  she  asks 
me  to  walk  with  her,  and  then  takes  me  off  a 
mile  or  more  from  the  village  just  at  dusk?' 
'  Why, '  said  Ma,  '  I'd  make  some  excuse,  and 
wouldn't  go  with  her.'  'But,'  said  Osborn,  'I 


i34         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

have  made  excuses,  but  I  can't  always  be  mak 
ing  excuses,  and  I  dislike  to  hurt  the  feelings  of 
anyone,  especially  of  a  lady.'  You  know,  Cla 
rissa,  how  tender  he  is  of  a  lady's  feelings  always, 
don't  you?" 

"Yes— I— Oh  yes,  always." 

"Well,  things  went  on  that  way  for  some  time, 
and  mother  was  constantly  at  him 

"  Was  constantly  at  him !  what  a  creature ! " 

"Mother  was.  .She  constantly  urged  him  to 
break  off  from  her,  and  at  last,  said  he,  '  mother, 
I'll  do  it,  I'll  do  it.'" 

"Well,  do  it,  Julia — I  would  if  I  were  you." 

"Oh,  Clarissa,  don't  go  to  sleep  until  I  explain 
that  matter." 

"Why,  I'm  not  sleepy,  Julia;  I'm  listening  to 
you." 

"No,  you  ain't,  you're  going  to  sleep." 

"Indeed  I'm  not,  I  hear  all  you  say,  'she  took 
him  off  a  mile  out  of  town  at  dusk,'  and  what 
did  she  do  to  him  then?" 

"Why  then  she  brought  him  back  again — and 
Ma  made  him  quit  keeping  company  with  her — 
and  she  hatched  up  a  whole  parcel  of  lies  and 
told  on  him." 

The  next  morning  Osborn  came  in  and  an 
nounced  that  Dr.  Ward  was  married  to  Miss  Bil- 


THE  MATCHMAKER  135 

lington.  They  were  to  have  been  married,  he 
said,  some  weeks  earlier,  but  the  wedding  had 
been  prevented  by  her  sickness. 

But  a  few  weeks  rolled  away  before  Clarissa 
found  a  suitor  indeed,  in  the  person  of  Milton 

;  foiy 

Fisher,  Esq.,  a  young  barrister,  whose  name 
had  been  a  full  year  before  him  at  the  village. 
He  had  everything  but  wealth  to  recommend 
him  to  a  young  lady,  and  so  high  was  his  pro 
fessional  reputation  that  all  could  see  that  he 
was  within  a  few  years  of  a  handsome  fortune. 

He  visited  Clarissa,  spent  an  hour  with  her  in 
the  forenoon — retired,  and  returned  and  spent 
the  evening  with  her.  He  tried  to  be  agreeable 
to  her,  and  succeeded.  She  tried  to  be  agree 
able  to  him,  and  succeded. 

"And  that  is  the  great  lawyer  Fisher  that  is 
so  smart!"  said  Julia,  as  the  girls  entered  the 
dormitory.  "  He  is  certainly  the  most  affected 
being  I  ever  beheld." 

"Why,  Julia!"  exclaimed  Clarissa:  "I'm  as 
tonished  to  hear  you  say  so!  I  saw  nothing  like 
affectation  about  him,  and  I  thought  him  the 
most  agreeable  man  in  his  manners  I  ever 
saw." 

"  I  reckon  if  you'd  seen  what  I  did,  you  wouldn't 
have  thought  so." 


i36         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"What  was  it?"  said  Clarissa,  with  a  little 
extra  interest. 

"Why,  when  he  was  standing  behind  you, 
and  you  were  playing  the  piano,  he  reached  his 
head  over  your  shoulder  under  pretence  of  look 
ing  at  the  notes,  and  looked  right  down  your  neck, 
as  brazen  as  he  looked  at  his  own  pretty  face 
while  he  sat  opposite  the  large  looking-glass.  I 
was  so  provoked  at  him  that  I  couldn't  bear  the 
sight  of  him  afterwards." 

"Julia,"  said  Clarissa,  "I  don't  think  he  was 
conscious  of  it;  for  I  noticed  that  the  instant  I 
struck  the  last  note  on  a  page,  he  turned  over  the 
leaf.  But  he  didn't  see  much,  the  saucy  fellow,  if 
he  was,  for  my  cape  nearly  covered  my " 

"Oh,  pshaw!  Don't  tell  me  about  these  jack- 
legged  lawyers  not  being  conscious  of  such 
things!  And  what's  a  lace  cape.  And  that's  a 
piece  of  rudeness  I  never  saw  in  any  of  your 
visitors  before.  Brother  Osborn  saw  it,  I  know; 
and  his  face  colored  like  crimson;  and  I  was  so 
alarmed  for  fear  he'd  insult  him,  I  didn't  know 
what  to  do.  And  when  you  threw  yourself  back 
in  your  chair  and  looked  at  him  - 

"Why,  Julia,  I  didn't  do~that,  did  I?" 

"Yes,  when  you  asked  him  about  Miss  Bryan's 
playing " 


THE  MATCHMAKER  i37 

"Oh,  yes,  I  recollect  it  now.  It  hurt  my  neck 
so  to  keep  turning  my  head  round  when  I  went 
to  address  him " 

"  Well,  it  was  then — I  really  thought  he  would 
have  kissed  you  right  before  all  of  us." 

"Oh,  Julia,  I  know  how  that  was.  He  didn't 
hear  me,  and  just  bowed  his  head  a  little  to  hear 
more  distinctly." 

"Oh,  don't  tell  me — I  know  'em — there  was  no 
great  noise,  that  he  had  to  stick  his  ear  within 
an  inch  of  your  cheek  to  hear  you.  I  heard  you 
distinctly,  and  I  was  three  times  as  far  from 
you  as  he  was." 

"La!  me,  Julia!  if  we  fall  out  with  everybody 
for  such  little  trifles,  we'll  be  forever  in  hot  water. 
Osborn  has  done  the  same  thing  a  thousand 
times " 

"Why,  Clarissa!" 

"I  reckon." 

"Never — never  was  he  guilty  of  such  rude 
ness.  If  he  was,  I'd  disown  him." 

By  this  time  the  young  ladies  were  abed,  and 
Julia  put  Clarissa  to  sleep  as  usual,  with  a  descant 
upon  the  sins  of  lawyers.  This,  however,  was 
not  effected  until  nearly  the  break  of  day. 

The  next  morning,  a  little  before  the  usual 
visiting  hour,  Mr.  Fisher  called,  as  he  said,  "but 


i38         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

for  a  moment,  to  bid  the  young  ladies  farewell." 
Julia  courtesied  to  him  formally;  Clarissa  re 
ceived  him  graciously.  He  sat  but  a  moment, 
and  bid  them  adieu.  Julia  tittered  contemptu 
ously  as  he  left;  and  Clarissa  bounded  to  the 
piano,  and  struck  up  loudly  with  voice  and  in 
strument, 

"Wilt  thou  say  farewell,  love?" 

She  sung  but  a  single  verse,  then  closed  the 
piano. 

"Well,  certainly,"  said  Julia,  "he  is  the  most 
disagreeable  being  I  ever  saw,  It  was  a  great 
piece  of  presumption  in  him  to  come  all  the 
way  up  here,  to  bid  us  good-bye,  upon  a  single 
day's  acquaintance." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  so,  Julia.  He  said  last 
night,  you  know,  that  he  would  corne  and  bid  us 
adieu  before  he  left." 

"But  who  asked  him  to  make  the  promise? 
I'm  sure  I  didn't.  Did  you  notice  how  red  his 
face  was?" 

"It  seemed  a  little  flushed,  as  I  suppose  from 
diffidence." 

"Oh,  mercy!  I'm  sorry  for  his  diffidence! 
Clarissa,  isn't  it  strange  that  almost  every  lawyer 
nowadays  drinks?" 

"Why,  I  never  heard  that  before." 


THE  MATCHMAKER  139 

"You  never  heard  how  given  to  drink  lawyers 
were?" 

"No,  I  never  heard  that  they  were  more  given 
to  drink  than  other  people." 

"  Why,  bless  your  soul,  there  is  not  a  sober  one 
among  them,  at  best;  so  they  tell  me.  Mrs. 
Bull  says,  that  from  daybreak  to  midnight  it's 
nothing  but  mint-slings,  and  grog,  and  brandy 
toddy,  and  apple  toddy,  all  kinds  of  drinks  that 
ever  were  heard  of.  She  said  if  they  didn't  pay 
well  she  never  would  entertain  them,  they  are 
such  a  drunken  rowdy  set " 

Here  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the 
appearance  of  Osborn.  And  the  day  passed  off 
as  usual,  except  that  Clarissa  was  a  little  pen 
sive. 

The  brother  and  sister  did  not  see  Clarissa 
the  next  day;  but  the  day  following  Osborn 
visited  her,  and  found  her  in  good  spirits. 

"Oh,  Cousin  Osborn,"  said  she,  "where  have 
you  and  Julia  been  all  this  time?  It  seems  like 
an  age  since  I  saw  you.  I  would  have  been 
over  to  your  house  yesterday,  but  I  felt  unwell. 
Where  is  Julia?" 

"She  will  be  over  this  afternoon,  she  told  me 
to  tell  you;  but  she  is  detained  just  as  she  was 
yesterday,  about  some  business  for  mother." 


i4o         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

" And  did  you  miss  me,  too,  Cousin  Clarissa?" 

"Why,  to  be  sure  I  did.  And  I  take  it  right 
unkindly  that  you  did  not  come  over  if  she  could 
not." 

"  It  affords  me  a  satisfaction,  Clarissa,  that  you 
little  suppose,  to  learn  that  you  take  an  interest 
in  my  company.  I  have  a  feeling  here."  (Lay 
ing  his  hand  upon  his  heart.) 

"Oh,  come  now,  Cousin  Osborn,  you're  getting 
sentimental  again.  What's  happened  to  you  to 
give  you  the  blues?  Come,  be  cheerful;  I  can't 
bear  to  see  you  melancholy." 

We  need  not  go  into  detail  of  what  followed. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  Osborn  had  come  over 
this  morning  courting  with  malice  aforethought, 
and  nothing  could  divert  him  from  his  purpose. 
Clarissa  tried  every  expedient  to  save  him  the 
mortification  of  a  refusal;  but  all  in  vain.  The 
Fates,  those  inexorable  deities  who  figured  so 
largely  in  love  affairs  of  old,  seemed  to  have  got 
in  a  pet  with  him  to-day,  just  for  nothing  at  all ; 
and  as  neither  Juno  nor  Venus  interested  them 
selves  in  his  behalf,  the  cruel  sisters  played  all 
manner  of  pranks  with  him.  They  threw  sand 
in  his  eyes,  so  that  he  could  not  see  Clarissa's 
recoilings;  they  poured  lead  in  his  ears,  so  that 
he  could  not  hear  her  delicate  rebuffs;  they  be- 


THE  MATCHMAKER  141 

wildered  his  judgment,  so  that  he  could  not  dis 
tinguish  between  "sisterly  love"  and  "brotherly 
love"  and  true-and-true  love — nay,  made  him 
think  the  first  a  better  kind  of  love  to  marry 
upon  than  the  last.  They  gave  him  first  the 
trembles,  then  the  heroics,  and  then  the  frantics, 
and  finally  squeezed  onion- juice  in  his  eyes  and 
dismissed  him  weeping.  Clarissa  did  all  she  could 
to  mitigate  their  wrath,  and  as  he  retired,  begged 
him  to  forget  what  had  passed,  and  to  continue 
his  visits  as  a  friend;  to  which  Osborn  responded 
with  a  half-melancholy,  half-crusty  grunt  that 
Clarissa  did  not  hear.  He  took  to  the  woods  for 
an  hour  or  so,  and  then  went  home  in  tolerable 
keeping,  considering  his  hard  usage. 

The   afternoon   was   far   spent   when    Clarissa 
received  the  following  billet  from  Julia : 

"WOODBINE  HALL,  6TH  MAY,  1816. 
"Dear  Coz. — I'm  almost  dead  to  see  you,  and 
intended  to  have  been  over  this  evening  by  all 
means;  but  Ma  keeps  me  so  busy  that  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  get  away  from  home 
to-day.  If  I  should  not  come  to  see  you,  be 
sure  to  come  and  see  me. 

"Your  affectionate  cousin,         JULIA." 

The  young  ladies  did  not  meet  that  day,  and 


i42         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

it  was  a  sad  day  to  Clarissa.  The  hour  of  rest 
arrived,  but  she  sought  no  rest  until  several 
hours  after;  and  then  sought  it  in  vain. 

The  next  morning  Julia  came  over,  and  they 
rushed  to  each  other's  arms  with  an  ardor  un 
common  even  to  them. 

"Oh!  Julia,"  said  Clarissa,  "I'm  so  happy  to 
see  you!  I  have  felt  like  an  outcast  from  the 
world  since  you  left  me.  If  you'll  believe  me,  I 
did  not  sleep  one  wink  last  night." 

"Neither  did  I;  but  you  ought  to  be  punished 
a  little,  Cousin  Clarissa,  for  dropping  to  sleep  so 
often,  and  leaving  me  talking." 

"  Well  so  I  ought,  dear  Julia.  But  don't  banter 
me  now,  for  I  am  really  heart-sick.  I  will  do  so 
no  more.  But  take  off  your  bonnet  and  gloves. 

"No,  I  can't  stay  to-day,  coz. ;  I  just  ran  over 
to  keep  you  from  feeling  uneasy; — but  Ma 
wouldn't  let  me  come  till  I  promised  her  I 
wouldn't  stay  but  a  minute — but  if  I  can  get 
away,  I'll  come  and  spend  the  night  with  you. 
Good-bye,  coz.  I'll  come  over  this  evening  and 
cheer  up  your  spirits;  but  if  I  shouldn't  come, 
don't  think  hard  of  it,  for  I'll  be  sure  to  come  if 
I  can." 

She  came  agreeable  to  appointment,  and 
Clarissa  greeted  her  with  a  sister's  tenderness. 


THE  MATCHMAKER  143 

"Oh,  Julia,"  said  Clarissa,  "I  am  rejoiced  to 
see  you;  from  what  you  said  I  was  afraid  you 
would  not  come." 

"Why,  Cousin  Clarissa,  am  I  in  the  habit  of 
violating  my  promises?" 

"No,  but  you  remember  you  did  not  promise 
positively  that  you  would  come,  and  as  the  sun 
went  down,  I  began  to  give  you  up  and  to  pre 
pare  myself  for  another  sleepless  night." 

"Well,  I  declare!  so  you  just  wanted  me  to 
put  you  to  sleep!  Now,  Cousin  Clarissa,  that  is 
too  bad.  But  I  deserve  it." 

"Oh!  my  dear  Julia,  how  could  you  put  such 
an  interpretation  upon  my  remarks?  You  can 
not  tell  what  pain  it  gives  me,"  and  her  eyes  filled. 

'* Pshaw,  Cousin  Clarissa,"  said  Julia,  "don't 
feel  hurt.  I  was  only  jesting.  You  know  I 
would  not  intentionally  wound  your  feelings  for 
the  world.  Come,  now,  if  you  won't  be  cheerful, 
I'll  go  right  home." 

"Well,  Julia,  I  will  be.  You  must  not  leave 
me  to-night.  My  heart  is  full,  and  I  wish  to 
unburden  it  to  you.  I  need  a  friend  just  now, 
and  you  are  that  very  friend.  If  I  am  cheerful, 
will  you  be?" 

"Why,  yes;  you  know  nothing  makes  me  sad." 

Things  went  on  now  as  usual  with  the  girls 


144         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

until  bed-time — except  that  Julia  took  issue  with 
Clarissa  a  little  oftener  than  common,  upon 
trifling  matters. 

The  young  ladies  were  no  sooner  in  bed  than 
Clarissa  embraced  Julia  and  said,  "  I  suppose, 
Cousin  Julia,  you  heard  what  passed  between 
Cousin  Osborn  and  myself  the  day  before  yes 
terday?" 

"No;  he  never  breathed  a  word  of  it  to  me" 

"  Well,  he  will  tell  you,  I  know,  for  he  conceals 
nothing  from  you.  He  made  a  formal  proposal 
to  me;  but  though  I  always  esteemed  him  as  a 
friend,  and  still  do,  I  did  not  feel  that  kind  of 
attachment  to  him  which  I  thought  I  ought  to 
feel  to  the  man  to  whom  I  unite  myself  for  life; 
and  therefore  I  refused  him.  But  I  hope,  my 
dear  Julia,  this  occurrence  will  not  interrupt  our 
friendship." 

"Never;  it  shall  never  make  the  least  change 
in  my  feelings,  I  assure  you." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  Julia,"  said  Clarissa, 
kissing  her.  "I  love  you,  Julia,  as  dearly  as  I 
ever  did — more  dearly  now  than  I  ever  did. 
Nor  is  my  regard  for  cousin  Osborn  abated  in 
the  least.  Beg  him,  if  you  please,  from  me,  to 
forget  what  has  passed,  and  to  come  and  see  me 
with  his  usual  brotherly  familiarity." 


THE  MATCHMAKER  145 

"Shall  I  tell  him,  Clarissa,  that  you  wish  to 
see  him  again." 

"Yes;  again  and  again,  as  heretofore/' 
"Well,  Clarissa,  as  you  have  broached  this 
subject,  I  will  speak  freely  upon  it.  Now  that 
you  have  rejected  him,  you  can't  mistake  my 
motives.  You  have  rejected  as  pure  a  being  as 
walks  the  earth — one  who  loves  you  more  de 
votedly  than  any  other  ever  will  love  you.  You 
were  his  first  and  will  be  his  last  love.  Oh! 
how  happy  I  would  have  been  if  you  could  have 
fancied  him.  But  now  it  is  all  over.  No,  I  fear 
it  is  not  all  over.  I  know  the  sensibility  of  his 
nature,  and  I  shall  be  miserable  with  the  fear  of 

his  destroying  himself ': 

"Oh!  my  dear  Julia,  don't  talk  that  way." 
"Yes,  Clarissa;  he  could  bear  anything  but 
the  loss  of  the  object  of  his  affections.  This  is 
the  thing  that  will  ruin  the  peace  of  all  of  us.  If 
we  lose  him,  we  lose  our  father,  brother,  son, 
friend, — everything.  Oh!  think,  dear  Clarissa, 
of  our  own  Osborn — our  hope,  our  all,  brought 
home  to  us  weltering  in  his  gore!"  here  she  buried 
her  face  in  Clarissa's  bosom,  and  wept 
bitterly. 

"Oh!    Julia,"    said   Clarissa,    as   soon   as   she 
could    speak — for  she  wept  too — "do  not  fear 


1 46         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

such  awful  consequences.  I  am  sure  Osborn 
would  not  commit  the  dreadful  sin  of  suicide/' 

"Oh!  Clarissa,  you  do  not  know  what  it  is  to 
lose  a  brother, — the  kindest,  best  of  brothers. 
You  do  not  know  the  agony  one  of  his  refined 
feelings  must  suffer,  at  being  discarded  by  the 
only  being  on  earth  that  could  make  him  happy. 
How  often  have  I  thought  of  the  bliss  we  might 
enjoy,  if  you  could  only  fancy  each  other! — But 
it  is  all  over  now;  and  our  only  hope  is  that  he 
may  be  spared  to  us.  If,  Clarissa,  you  can  do 
anything  to  save  him  from  desperation,  and  us 
from  grief  that  will  carry  us  to  the  grave,  pray 
do  it, — will  you,  Clarissa?" 

"Yes,  Julia,  with  all  my  heart.  But  what 
would  you  advise  me  to  say  to  him?  It  will 
seem  strange  and  vain  in  me,  to  beg  him  not  to 
kill  himself,  when  I  don't  know  that  he  has  any 
such  intention." 

"Oh,  I  would  not  have  you  hint  such  a  thing 
to  him  by  any  means.  But  do  whatever  seems 
to  you  best, — we  are  all  at  your  mercy.  Oh! 
Clarissa,  how  changed  the  scene  from  those 
blissful  nights  which  we  used  to  spend  together!" 

"But,  Julia,  they  shall  not  be  changed." 

"Do  you  say  so,  Clarissa?" 

"Yes;    I  see  no  reason  why  they  should  be 


THE  MATCHMAKER  147 

changed.  You  are  as  near  and  dear  to  me  as 
ever  you  were — and  so  is  Osborn;  and  I  don't 
think  you  need  have  the  least  apprehension  of 
his  destroying  himself." 

"Well,  then,  I  will  not  distress  myself  any 
longer.  Let  us  dismiss  the  subject  for  to-night." 

Various  subjects  now  engaged  the  conversa 
tion  of  the  young  ladies  until  nearly  dawn,  when 
they  dropped  to  sleep  simultaneously. 

Julia  left  the  next  morning  soon  after  break 
fast;  and  she  had  but  little  more  than  time  to 
reach  home,  before  Osborn  appeared  with  a 
bright  and  happy  countenance. 

"I  hope,  Clarissa,"  said  he,  "from  what  sister 
Julia  tells  me,  that  my  case  is  not  as  desperate 
as  I  thought  it  was." 

"And  did  you  consider  it  desperate,  Cousin 
Osborn?" 

"Yes;  perfectly  hopeless." 

"And  what  did  you  purpose  doing?" 

"Why,  I  had  no  alternative  but  to  submit  to 
my  lot,  as  thousands  had  done  before  me,  or  to 
destroy  myself;  and  it  was  not  a  very  difficult 
matter  to  choose  between  these  alternatives." 

"And  you  meant  to  destroy  yourself?" 

"Oh!  no,  I  didn't.  I  had  not  the  most  distant 
idea  of  that." 


i48         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Oh!  Cousin  Osborn,  how  happy  I  am  to  hear 
you  say  so.  Now  we  shall  all  be  happy  again; 
your  mother,  and  Julia,  and  you,  and  I,  and  all 
of  us.  Run  and  tell  cousin  Julia  to  come  over 
here,  if  it's  but  for  a  moment.  Tell  her  I  have 
good  news  to  tell  her — very  good." 

Away  went  Osborn,  swift  as  the  wind,  to  Julia. 

"Why,  surely  brother  Osborn,  you  come  with 
good  news;  so  changed  is  your  countenance!" 
said  Julia,  as  he  entered  the  house. 

"I  believe  I  do,"  said  Osborn. 

"What  is  it?"  said  his  mother,  looking  cheerily 
over  her  spectacles. 

"Why,  I  don't  know  exactly  myself,"  said  Os 
born — "but  Clarissa  sent  for  me  this  morning, 
met  me  more  tenderly  than  she  ever  did,  and 
told  me  she  was  going  to  make  us  all  happy; 
and  desired  me  to  tell  Julia  she  had  good  news 
for  her,  very  good, — and  to  bring  her  over  imme 
diately.  So  that  I  suppose  she  has  changed  her 
mind." 

"Well,  bless  the  dear  child,"  said  the  mother. 
"  I  knew  she  was  no  quoquet;  and  I  told  Osborn 
not  to  give  up  too  soon.  Fetch  her  over  with 
you,  that  I  may  hug  her  to  my  bosom." 

Julia  hurried  on  her  bonnet,  and  she  and  Os 
born  were  off  in  an  instant.  They  found  Clarissa 


THE  MATCHMAKER  149 

just  within  the  door,  with  a  smiling  countenance, 
waiting  to  receive  them.  As  soon  as  they  entered 
the  door,  Julia  and  Clarissa  embraced  and  kissed, 
and  embraced  and  kissed  again. 

"I  hope,  Clarissa,"  said  Osborn,  "you  have 
reserved  at  least  one  kiss  for  me." 

"Yes,  Cousin  Osborn,"  said  Clarissa,  "I  will 
kiss  you  now;  but  mind,  you  must  never  ask  me 
to  kiss  you  again." 

"Never,"  said  Osborn;  and  as  she  presented 
her  lips,  he  gave  her  a  smack  that  was  like  tooth- 
pulling. 

"Come  here,  Julia,"  said  Clarissa,  taking  her 
aside,  "you  may  quiet  all  your  uneasiness.  Os 
born  and  I  have  talked  the  matter  all  over, 
and  -  -." 

"Why,  if  there  isn't  Mr.  Fisher!"  said  Julia; 
and  she  ran  to  him  and  shook  his  hand  warmly. 
So  did  Osborn,  and  (nearly)  so  did  Clarissa. 

All  seemed  happy;  and  a  spirited  conversa 
tion  ensued,  followed  by  music  of  flute  and 
piano, — for  Fisher  had  brought  his  flute  this  time, 
and  he  had  brought  with  it,  the  best  music  of 
that  instrument. 

About  an  hour  had  been  spent  in  this  way, 
when  a  little  negro  boy  entered  the  room,  and 
said,  "Mass  Osborn,  missis  say,  why  don't  you 


1 50         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

and  Miss  Juley  bring  along  Miss  Cla'sa, — say,  she 
most  crazy  to  see  her."  Julia  bounced  to  the 
servant,  whispered  something  in  his  ear,  and  he 
retired. 

"I  hope/'  said  Fisher,  "I  have  not  interrupted 
a  visit,  Miss  Clarissa." 

"Oh!  no,"  said  all  at  once.  "Ma,"  continued 
Julia,  "requested  brother  Osborn  and  I,  when 
we  came  home,  to  bring  Miss  Clarissa  with  us; 
but  we  had  not  even  mentioned  it  to  Clarissa." 
Fisher  remained  but  a  few  minutes  longer,  and 
rose  to  retire. 

"Mr.  Fisher,"  said  Julia,  as  he  was  about  bid 
ding  them  adieu,  "  won't  you  come  over  this  eve 
ning  to  our  house,  and  try  your  flute  with  our 
piano?" 

"Yes,"  said  Osborn;  "Mr.  Fisher,  come  over 
and  take  tea  with  us,  if  you  please-  we  will  be 
very  happy  .to  see  you," 

"I  will  with  pleasure,"  said  Fisher;  and  he  re 
tired. 

"Well,  I  declare,"  said  Julia,  "how  he  im 
proves  upon  acquaintance!  Oh,  that  flute!  It 
was  positively  enrapturing;  wasn't  it,  Clarissa?" 

"Yes,  indeed  it  was,"  said  Clarissa;  "and, 
coz.,  take  care  of  your  heart;  for  if  he  has  con 
quered  your  prejudices  the  second  visit,  he'll 


THE  MATCHMAKER  iSi 

have  you  in  love  with  him  the  third,  to  a  cer 
tainty." 

"  Oh !  hush,  coz."  (tapping  her  cheek,  playfully,) 
"you  know  he  doesn't  dream  of  me." 

"That  does  not  prove,  though,  that  you  don't 
dream  of  him.  What  think  you,  Cousin  Osborn? 
Didn't  you  think  Julia  tried  to  make  herself  very 
agreeable  to  the  squire  this  morning?" 

"Yes,  I  think  it's  a  case  with  Jule, — a  clean 
gone." 

11  Brother  Osborn,  ain't  you  and  Cousin  Clarissa 
ashamed  of  yourselves?  I  declare  I  shall  get 
right  angry  with  you,  if  you  talk  so.  But 
come,  we  must  go  over  and  let  Ma  know  that 
he  is  to  be  there  to-night.  And  Osborn,  you 
must  go  and  invite  Miss  Low,  and  Miss  Green, 

and  Miss  White,  and  .  What  are  you 

laughing  at?" 

"Why,  sister,"  said  Osborn,  "you  are  cer 
tainly  picking  the  ugliest  girls  in  town." 

"Oh,  pshaw,"  said  Julia,  laughing,  "I  hadn't 
got  through.  Well,  go  and  invite  who  you 
please ;  only  don't  have  too  many.  It's  too  late 
to  have  a  large  party.  Cousin  Clarissa,  you'll 
go  over  with  us  now,  won't  you?  and  spend  the 
day  and  evening  both  with  us?" 

"Yes,"  said  Clarissa,  "with  pleasure,  especially 


1 52         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

as  your  ma  is  so  anxious  to  see  me.  Cousin,  what 
did  that  message  mean?" 

"Why,  when  Osborn  came  over,  he  mentioned 
what  you  were  telling  me  when  Mr.  Fisher  came 
in,  and  it  was  such  a  gratification  to  Ma  that  she 
said  we  must  bring  you  over,  that  she  might  take 
you  to  her  bosom." 

"  I  am  rejoiced  that  she  is  happy,  but  I  do  not 
deserve  the  credit  of  it.  It's  due  to  Osborn  him 
self,  alone." 

"Well,  we  haven't  time  to  talk  about  it  now; 
we'll  talk  it  all  over  by-and-by.  Will  you  dr^ss 
now,  or  send  over  for  your  clothes,  and  dress  this 
evening?" 

"  Why,  I  believe,  as  I  have  to  do  a  little  shopping 
this  evening,  I  will  dress  for  the  evening  at  once." 

"Well,  I'll  run  over  and  prepare  Ma,  for  the 
party;  and  you  and  brother  Osborn  can  come 
over  when  you  are  ready." 

"No,  as  Osborn  is  going  to  give  the  invita 
tions,  I  insist  upon  his  returning  with  you.  I 
shall  detain  him,  perhaps,  longer  than  he  would 
wish  to  be  detained." 

After  the  usual  preliminaries,  this  was  agreed  on. 
As  they  approached  their  dwelling,  their  mother 
met  them  with  some  anxiety  at  the  door,  and 
inquired  where  Clarissa  was. 


THE  MATCHMAKER  153 

"She'll  be  along  directly,"  said  Julia. 

"All's  right,  I  suppose,"  said  the  old  lady,  in  a 
half  whisper. 

"All  right;"  returned  Julia.  "Clarissa  put  up 
her  lips  to  Osborn  to  kiss  her ;  which,  you  know, 
she  wouldn't  have  done  for  the  world,  if  they 
hadn't  been  engaged." 

"Why,  you  don't  tell  me  so!  Well,  as  a  gen 
eral  rule,  I  don't  think  a  young  lady  ought  to 
allow  a  gentleman  to  kiss  her,  even  if  they're 
engaged;  but  where  they've  been  like  brother 
and  sister,  and  where  there's  been  a  little  mis 
understanding,  I  think  it's  well  enough  that  they 
should  do  a  little  something  extr'or'nary." 

"Ma,  we're  going  to  have  a  little  party  this 
evening;  Mr.  Fisher  is  to  be  here,  and " 

"  What,  has  he  come  back? " 

"Oh,  yes;  and  he's  much  cleverer  than  I 
thought  he  was.  You'll  be  pleased  with  him 
when  you  see  him;  I  know  you  will." 

"Well,  maybe  so;  but  I  wish  he'd  stayed 
away  a  little  while  longer, — until  we  got  a  little 
better  fixed  for  company." 

The  old  lady  now  began  to  prepare  for  the 
party,  with  an  energy  befitting  the  occasion. 
All  things  were  set  in  order  in  the  house,  and 
in  disorder  in  and  about  the  kitchen.  Coffee- 


i54         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

mills,  spice-mortars,  sifters  and  egg-beaters,  struck 
up  in  merry  concert  to  quick  time — 

"Young  Fisher  is  coming,  oh!  ho,  ohl  ho." 

The  chickens  took  the  hint,  and  scampered — for 
it  was  not  yet  one  o'clock, — and  even  the  ducks 
and  turkeys  looked  as  if  they  did  not  consider 
themselves  safe. 

In  the  midst  of  this  bustle,  Clarissa  made  her 
appearance,  and  found  the  old  lady  wrist-deep 
in  dough;  so  that  the  promised  hug  had  to  be 
postponed ;  but  with  outstretched  arms,  the  kind 
matron  offered  a  kiss,  which  was  accepted. 
Between  those  two  white  arms,  gloved  as  they 
were,  oh!  how  sweetly  Clarissa  looked;  and  oh! 
how  sweetly  did  her  would-be  mother-in-law 
welcome  her. 

' 'Why,  my  daughter,"  said  the  good  lady,  "I 
never  saw  you  look  so  pretty  before;  I  don't 
wonder  Osborn  fell  in  love  with  you  to  distrac 
tion." 

Clarissa  blushed,  and  replied — "Come,  Aunty, 
that's  all  done  with  now,  and  nothing  gratifies 
me  more  than  to  see  that  you  all  love  me  still, 
and  all  treat  me  as  you  used  to.  To  have  been 
treated  coldly  by  you  all,  would  have  almost 
broken  my  heart." 


THE  MATCHMAKER  155 

"Why,  God  bless  you,  my  dear  child,  we  love 
you  more  for  it — a  great  deal  more;  for  Osborn 
had  no  right  to  expect  that  you  would  have  him.'* 

"  Yes,  he  had,  Aunty,  as  good  a  right  to  expect 
it  as  any  young  man  of  good  moral  character, 
good  manners,  and  good  family.  But  you  know 
our  hearts  are  not  always  at  our  own  disposal." 

"No,  my  dear,  I  know  they  are  not.  When 
Mr.  Carp  courted  me,  I  could'a'got  much  hand 
somer  and  richer  young  men  than  him;  but  I 
fell  in  love  with  him,  I  could  not  tell  why.  But 
don't  stay  here  in  the  pantry  with  me,  child;  go 
and  hunt  up  Julia,  or  play  the  piano,  or  amuse 
yourself  any  way  that  you  like.  You  know  you 
are  at  home  now." 

Dinner  was  soon  brought  in  and  despatched; 
and  Clarissa  took  a  ramble  among  the  stores, 
while  Julia  went  to  assist  her  mother  until  it  was 
time  to  dress  for  the  party. 

The  afternoon  rolled  away,  and  with  the  gath 
ering  dusk,  some  four  or  five  young  ladies,  and  as 
many  gentlemen  convened  in  the  drawing-room. 

Julia  was  dressed  exactly  like  Clarissa,  except 
that  her  cape  was  a  little  more  opened  before 
than  Clarissa's,  and  the  material  a  little  thinner. 

The  evening  passed  off  cheerily — tea  followed 
conversation  and  music  followed  tea.  Mr.  Fisher 


i56         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

had  been  most  attentive  to  Clarissa  at  her  house, 
— he  was  now  most  attentive  to  Julia  at  her's. 
Osborn  was  attentive  to  all  by  turns,  but  a  little 
more  dilatory  in  passing  from,  than  in  passing 
to,  Clarissa.  The  girls  twitted  Clarissa  about 
Osborn — and  the  young  gentlemen  felicitated 
Osborn  upon  his  late  good  luck.  Mrs.  Carp  came 
into  the  room  but  twice, — the  first  time  she  found 
Mr.  Fisher  and  Julia  in  an  interesting  tete-a-tete, 
and  Clarissa  and  Osborn  in  a  cheerful  conversa 
tion.  The  next  time,  Julia  was  at  a  rest  at  the 
piano,  leaning  back  and  listening  smilingly  to 
some  remarks  which  fell  (down)  from  Fisher's 
lips. 

The  time  for  retiring  had  nearly  arrived,  when 
Fisher,  finding  Clarissa  and  Julia  a  little  apart 
from  the  company,  took  a  seat  by  them. 

"And  are  all  the  young  ladies  of  the  village 
engaged,  Miss  Gage?"  said  Fisher;  "I  should 
judge  so  from  report." 

"  I  can  only  answer  for  one,  sir." 

"And  that  one  the  whole  village  answers  for." 

"And  how  does  it  answer?" 

"Affirmatively,  of  course." 

"Then  the  whole  village  is  wrong  for  once  at 
.east." 

"  I  could  not  expect  you,  Miss  Gage,  to  admit 


THE  MATCHMAKER  157 

the  truth  of  such  a  report  even  to  a  friend,  much 
less  to  a  stranger." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  I  should  do  if  the  report 
were  true;  but  I  have  no  scruples  in  denying  it, 
since  the  report  is  not  true." 

This  was  said  with  a  little  spice  of  seriousness; 
more  than  the  occasion  called  for. 

"  Well,really,"  said  Julia,  "  Mr.  Fisher,  I  thought 
you  could  manage  a  case  better  than  that ;  to  ask 
a  lady  about  her  engagements  before  company!" 

"Miss  Gage  will  acquit  me,  I'm  sure,  of  having 
instituted  any  inquiry  personal  to  herself." 

"Certainly  I  will.  I  led  tjie  conversation  to 
myself,  I  know;  but  how,  exactly,  I  disremem- 
ber.  Of  one  thing,  however,  I'm  very  sure,  and 
that  is,  that  I  gave  it  a  very  unguarded  direction." 

"  It  grew  very  naturally  out  of  my  question, 
Miss  Gage.  Indeed,  now  I  think  of  it,  though 
I  did  not  before,  you  could  hardly  have  given  it 
any  other  direction  without  tacitly  admitting 
your  own  engagement." 

"You  lawyers  are  very  ready,"  said  Julia,  "at 
smoothing  things  over,  but  you  are  not  smart 
enough  to  find  out  a  young  lady's  engagements, 
I'll  warrant  you." 

Here  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a 
call  upon  Fisher  for  a  solo  on  the  flute.  He  rose, 


i58         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

took  his  seat  by  the  lady  who  made  the  call,  and 
complied  with  the  request. 

"Julia,"  said  Clarissa,  "you  ought  not  to  have 
talked  as  you  did  to  Mr.  Fisher;  you  will  lead 
him  to  believe  I  am  engaged,  sure  enough." 

"Well,  coz.,  I  wouldn't  have  said  anything,  if 
you  hadn't  denied  it  so  positively.  I  thought, 
then,  that  you  ought  to  be  teased  a  little." 

"Well,  Julia,  you  know  that  I  am  not." 

"Why,  Clarissa,  are  you  in  earnest?" 

"Surely  I  am.  Are  you  in  earnest  in  seeming 
to  think  I  am  engaged?" 

"Yes,  Clarissa;  but  pray  don't  let's  talk  any 
more  about  it  now." 

The  conversation  had  by  this  time  assumed  an 
interest  that  was  visible  to  several  eyes,  though 
it  was  heard  by  no  ears  but  those  to  which  it  was 
addressed. 

Julia  rose,  sauntered  about  listlessly  for  a 
moment,  and  said  to  Osborn,  "Come,  you've 
talked  long  enough  to  Miss  White — I  wish  to 
talk  to  her  some  myself;  so  give  me  your  seat." 

Osborn  rose  and  seated  himself  by  Clarissa. 
"You  seem  to  be  losing  your  spirits,  Cousin 
Clarissa,"  said  he. 

"Yes,  Osborn,"  said  she,  "I  am  uneasy, — I  fear 
there  has  been  some  misunderstanding;  I  cannot 


THE  MATCHMAKER  159 

tell  how.  Julia  this  moment  told  me  in  confi 
dence  and  seriously,  she  thought  I  was  engaged. 
What  does  she  mean?" 

"And  do  you  not  consider  yourself  engaged, 
Miss  Clarissa?"  said  Osborn. 

"Why,  no, — who  to?  What  can  have  started 
such  an  idea?  I  thought  that  there  was  some 
thing — but  tell  me  how  did  such  an  idea  get 
afloat?" 

"I'll  explain  it  all,  Clarissa,  to-morrow." 

"Pray  see  me  home,  Osborn,"  and  she  rose. 

During  this  interview,  Julia,  with  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  parties,  was  carrying  on  a  very 
dry  and  scattered  conversation  with  Miss  White, 
for  one  who  had 'usurped  a  seat  for  the  purpose 
of  entertaining  her;  so  that  as  soon  as  Clarissa 
rose,  she  followed  her  example,  and  all  the  rest 
did  the  like.  Julia  pressed  Clarissa  to  stay  all 
night  with  the  usual  forms,  but  not  the  usual 
feeling.  The  entreaty  was  urged  long  enough, 
however,  to  throw  Clarissa  in  the  rear  of  the 
retiring  company.  Mrs.  Carp  met  her  at  the  door, 
"Why,  you're  not  going  home  to-night!  you 
mustn't,  I've  a  heap  of  things  to  say  to 
you." 

"You  must  excuse  me  this  evening,  Aunty, — I 
must  go  home.  Come,  Cousin  Osborn." 


160         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Bless  her  heart,"  said  the  old  lady  kindly,  as 
they  left,  "it's  only  for  the  walk  with  her  dear 
Osy  that  she  must  go  home." 

"No,  it  isn't,  Ma,"  said  Julia,  "it's  all  blown 
up.  I  heard  her  telling  Mr.  Fisher  most  solemnly 
that  she  was  not  engaged;  and  I  felt  so  out  of 
patience  with  her,  that  I  gave  Mr.  Fisher  a  little 
hint  that  she  was.  And  do  you  think  she  didn't 
face  me  down  that  she  was  not  engaged?  and 
expressed  as  much  astonishment  as  if  she'd  never 
seen  brother  Osborn.  Brother  Osborn  went  and 
sat  down  by  her,  and  they  soon  got  in  a  warm 
conversation;  I  don't  know  what  they  said,  but 
they  were  very  much  excited,  and  Clarissa  rose 
right  out  of  it  to  go  home." 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  so?  I  knew  that  just  as 
sure  as  that  jacklegg'd  lawyer  came  here,  there'd 
be  a  fuss.  I  saw,  when  he  was  here  before,  she 
was  pleased  with  him." 

"  Ma,  he's  not  to  blame, — he  didn't  ask  her  any 
thing  about  her  engagements,  as  she  said  her 
self.  She  just  up  and  told  that  barefaced  story 
without  being  asked  about  it.  She  might  just 
as  well  have  courted  Mr.  Fisher  outright.  I  was 
ashamed  of  her." 

"Well,  let's  not  be  too  hasty;  we'll  hear  what 
Osborn  says, — and  if  she  is  such  a  hypocrite 


THE  MATCHMAKER  161 

quoquet,  I'll  give  her  a  piece  of  my  mind,  if  King 
George  was  her  father." 

As  soon  as  Clarissa  and  Osborn  had  cleared 
the  door,  "Pray  tell  me,"  said  she,  "what  means 
the  strange  idea  that  you  and  Julia  have  taken 
up?" 

"Why,  when  you  sent  for  me  this  morning — " 

"I  didn't  send  for  you." 

"Why,  Julia  said  you  did,  and  that  you'd  be 
happy  to  see  me  again  and  again,  as  she  ex 
pressed  it." 

"Well,  I  did  tell  her  so,  but  I  meant  and  said, 
as  a  friend  and  old  acquaintance.  I  requested 
her  to  tell  you,  not  to  let  what  had  passed  de 
stroy  our  friendship;  and  when  you  came,  and 
came  with  such  a  cheerful  countenance,  I  thought 
you  had  forgotten  the  past." 

"  Well,  certainly,  Miss  Clarissa,  you  treated  me 
very  differently  from  what  you  had  ever  done 
before." 

"  Not  till  you  told  me  you  had  no  idea  of  killing 
yourself— did  I?" 

"Killing  myself!" 

"Yes;  don't  you  remember  it  was  then,  and 
not  before,  that  I  expressed  so  much  delight?" 

"  I  believe  it  was  at  that  time;  but  surely  you 
did  not  suppose  that  I  was  going  to  kill  myself?" 
11 


i62         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Yes,  I  did;  and  your  mother  thought  so,  and 
your  sister  thought  so— 

"Thought  that  I  was  going  to  kill  myself?" 

"Yes;  and  when  I  heard  from  your  own*lips, 
that  you  had  no  thought  of  such  a  thing,  I  sent 
off  immediately  to  Julia,  to  quiet  her  alarms- 
Here  they  reached  the  door,  and  Osborn  bid 
Clarissa  good-night. 

"No,  Osborn,  come  in,  late  as  it  is,  and  let  this 
whole  matter  be  explained  before  we  part." 

"Not  to-night,  Miss  Clarissa.  It's  too  late; 
besides,  I  am  very  well  satisfied  with  your  explana 
tion." 

Clarissa  retired  to  her  room,  and  wept  through 
the  night.  Osborn  went  home,  and  his  coun 
tenance  verified  what  Julia  had  said. 

"And  what  does  she  say  for  herself?"  inquired 
the  old  lady. 

"  Why,  she  says  all  her  kind  favors  to  me  was 
to  keep  me  from  killing  myself." 

"From  killing  yourself!"  said  the  old  lady, 
with  a  hiccup  laugh,  and  a  look  of  fire.  "She 
must  think  herself  the  Empire  (Emperor)  of 
France,  surely,  to  kill  who  she  pleases." 

"  Why,  she  says  that  you  and  Julia  both  thought 
I  was  going  to  kill  myself— 

"Oh!  the  thing's  run  crazy,  that's  a  clear  case. 


THE  MATCHMAKER 


That  lawyer's  run  her  clear  distracted.  Why  I 
had  no  more  idea  of  your  killing  yourself,  than 
I  had  of  your  killing  me;  not  a  bit,  —  and  how  the 
girl  could  hatch  up  such  a  barefaced  lie,  I  can't 
tell." 

"Julia,  she  says  she  didn't  tell  you  to  ask  me 
over  there  this  morning." 

"  Why,  brother  Osborn,  she  surely  doesn't  have 
the  impudence  to  say  that!" 

"Yes,  she  does.  She  says  she  begged  you  to 
tell  me  not  to  let  what  had  passed  destroy  our 
friendship;  but  to  come  and  see  her  as  I  had 
done  before;  and  I'm  afraid,  Julia,  that  all  this 
matter  has  grown  out  of  your  imprudence." 

"Oh!  brother  Osborn,  how  can  you  think  so 
badly  of  me!  Oh!  Clarissa,  who  could  have  be 
lieved  all  this  of  you!"  and  here  Julia  buried  her 
face  in  her  handkerchief,  and  wept  piteously. 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  want  to  blame  Julia  for," 
said  the  old  lady.  "  If  she'll  tell  lies  on  me,  she'll 
tell  lies  on  her.  Tell  me  this,  did  she  kiss  you?" 

"Oh,  yes;  but  that  was  for  joy  that  I  didn't 
blow  my  brains  out." 

"And  didn't  she  treat  you  with  more  attention 
than  ever  before?" 

"Yes;  but  that  was  because  I  didn't  cut  my 
throat." 


164         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"And  didn't  she,  standing  right  there,  in  that 
pantry  door,  while  I  was  kneading  the  jumbles 
with  these  very  hands — didn't  she  come  up  and 
kiss  me,  and  as  much  as  tell  me  over  and  over 
again  that  you  and  she  were  engaged?  And 
when  I  wondered  at  her  having  you,  she  said 
girls'  hearts  were  not  their  own;  and  that  you 
had  as  good  a  right  to  expect  her  to  have  you,  as 
any  young  man,  because  you  had  a  good  char 
acter  and  good  manners,  and  was  of  good  family; 
and  I  b'lieve  she  said,  because  you  were  hand 
some  too, — but  I  won't  be  sure  of  that." 

11  If  that's  all  so,  I  don't  see  what  that  had  to 
do  with  my  killing  myself." 

"If  that's  all  so!'  why  I'll  be  sworn  upon  a 
stack  of  bibles  as  big  as  all  Colonel  Fielder's 
fodder  stacks  put  together,  that  it's  every  word 
true.  True ! — why,  come  here, — here — wasn't  she 
standing  right  here,  with  one  foot  on  this  little 
stool,  just  so — as  I'm  standing  now — when  she 
told  me  every  word  of  it?  Let  her  come  to  my 
face,  and  deny  it,  if  she  dare.  If  she  chooses  to 
fling  you  away  for  gadabout  lawyers— 

"Oh!  mother,"  said  Julia,  plaintively,  "don't 
talk  so." 

" why  let  her  do  it,  and  say  so;  but  not 

be  telling  a  pack  of  lies  upon  us  all,  and  making 


THE  MATCHMAKER  165 

fools  of  us.     I  wouldn't  put  up  with  it,  if  she  was 
as  rich  as  Creasy.     Humph,  you  may  laugh  at 
it,  but  to  me  it's  no  laughing  matter.     I  think 
myself  as  good  as  she  is,  if  she  has  got  a  few 
stumps   o'  .niggers,    and   river   low   grounds.     Ivf   /v>) 
reckon    I   know   her   breed,    from   drunken   Bill    \ 
down  to  gambling  Ned.     Her  father  was  the  best 
of  the  tribe,  and  her  mother,  after  all  her  kick- 
ups,  hardly  let  his  head  get  cold  before  she  mar 
ried  a  gadabout  preacher." 

"Well,  well,  mother,  talking  won't  mend  mat 
ters.  I'm  no  worse  off  than  I  was  yesterday — 
and  I  give  you  my  word  and  honor  I  shall  not 
kill  myself  about  it.  Good  night." 

"Julia,  call  Betty  to  put  away  these  tea  things." 

Betty  was  called,  and  in  she  bounced  with  the 
family  face  of  the  morning. 

"Missis,"  says  she,  "they  say  Mas'  Osborn's 
gwine  to  marry  Miss  Clar'sa;  is  it  so?" 

"You  impudent  huzzy,  if  you  don't  put  away 
these  things  and  get  out  of  this  house,  I'll  marry 
you.  What's  it  to  you  who  Mas'  Osborn  mar 
ries!  And  as  to  Miss  Clar'sa,  as  you  call  her,  she 
may  marry  the  Old  Nick  for  what  I  care,  and  all 
his  imps  with  him." 

"Emph,  emph,"  muttered  Betty,  and  she  des 
patched  the  tea-things  in  short  order. 


1 66         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

The  next  morning  the  village  was  in  an  uproar. 
A  thousand  reports  were  afloat,  which'  agreed  in 
but  two  things:  first,  that  the  match  between 
Cteborn  and  Clarissa  had  been  broken  off;,  and 
secondly,  that  Fisher  was  the  cause  of  it.  This 
had  been  seen  at  the  party  by  several;  and 
therefore  there  was  no  disputing  it.  The  conse 
quence  was  that  Clarissa  was  loudly  censured 
by  all  but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bacon  and  two  or  three 
young  gentlemen.  Mrs.  Bacon  said,  that  as  soon 
as  Mr.  Fisher  stopped  at  her  house,  instead  of 
going  to  Mrs.  Bull's,  she  knew  some  story  would 
be  trumped  up  against  him.  "  It  wasn't  enough 
to  get  all  the  lawyers  that  came  to  court  there, 
but  she  must  get  all  the  strange  lawyers  too. 
For  her  part,  she  didn't  believe  Miss  Clarissa  ever 
had  any  notion  of  Osborn.  If  she  had,  she 
might  have  had  him  long  ago,  for  he'd  been  ding- 
donging  at  her,  ever  since  she  came  from  school, 
with  his  mother  and  sister  to  help  him;  and  if 
they  couldn't  make  it  out  before,  she  didn't 
know  how  they'd  made  out  so  much  all  of  a  sud 
den.  It  was  all  over  town  that  she  had  given 
him  a  walking-ticket,  till  Mrs.  Bull  came  down 
yesterday  with  the  story  that  they  were  engaged 
and  going  to  be  married  right  away.  She  could 
see  how  they  worked  things,  as  quick  as  most 


THE  MATCHMAKER  167 

people;  and  when  the  truth  came  out,  it  would 
be  found  out  that  Jule  Carp  was  hankering  after 
Squire  Fisher  herself,  and  fell  out  with  Clarissa 
because  she  saw  he  liked  her  best.  Sally  Green 
told  me  about  her  capers  at  the  party;  and  how 
mighty  clever  she  was,  till  the  squire  took  a  seat  by 
Clarissa.  Don't  tell  me !  white  folks  is  mighty  un- 
sartin,  I  tell  you — 'specially  in  their  sparking  days. " 

We  may  not  follow  all  the  reports;  suffice  it 
to  say,  that  Mrs.  Carp  and  Miss  Julia  took  the 
grand  rounds  the  next  morning  to  return  long 
neglected  calls,  and  to  see  how  all  the  young 
ladies  did  after  the  party.  Their  conversation 
at  every  call  was  much  the  same,  so  that  the  fol 
lowing,  at  Mrs.  Green's,  will  give  the  reader  a 
pretty  accurate  idea  of  all  of  them. 

MRS.  GREEN — Good  morning,  good  morning, 
Mrs.  Carp!  How-d'y',  Julia?  I  am  very  glad 
to  see  you.  Take  off  your  bonnets  and  shawls, 
and  stay  all  day. 

MRS.  CARP — We  can't  stay  but  a  few  minutes; 
we  have  several  calls  to  make.  How  is  Sally  this 
morning  ? 

MRS.  GREEN — She  is  very  well — she  has  just 
stepped  out,  but  I  hope  she'll  soon  return.     She     • 
says  it  was  the  most  agreeable  little  party  she 
has  been  at  for  many  a  day. 


1 68         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

MRS.  CARP — The  young  people  seemed  to  enjoy 
themselves  very  much. 

MRS.  GREEN — Sally  says,  Julia,  that  you 
played  the  world  with  Mr.  Fisher's  heart, — that 
he  was  all  attention  to  you. 

JULIA — Oh,  dear!  Mr.  Fisher's  Clarissa's  beau, 
you  know. 

MRS.  GREEN — Oh!  no;  Osborn  is  her  beau, 
everybody  knows.  I  wouldn't  have  mentioned 
it,  if  it  hadn't  been  town  talk;  but  report  says 
they're  to  be  married  right  away,  and  a  good 
many  thought  they  would  have  got  married  at 
your  house  last  night. 

JULIA — Oh!  no,  they  are  not  even  engaged; 
for  I  heard  Clarissa  tell  Mr.  Fisher  so  over  and 
over  again  last  night. 

MRS.  GREEN — Heard  her  tell  Mr.  Fisher  so! 

JULIA — Yes,  and  that  without  his  asking;  he, 
he,  he! 

MRS.  GREEN — Oh!  Julia,  child,  you  must  be 
joking ! 

JULIA — Indeed  I  am  not.  Do  you  ask  Mr. 
Fisher  if  it  isn't  so. 

MRS.  GREEN — Why  it's  the  beat  of  anything  I 
ever  heard  in  all  my  life! 

MRS.  CARP — Oh!  Julia,  you  needn't  be  mealy- 
mouthed  about  it.  Tell  the  whole  story  at 


THE  MATCHMAKER  169 

once.  This  was  the  way  of  it,  Mrs.  Green: — 
Clarissa  and  Osborn  were  engaged,  and  she  made 
no  secret  of  it.  She  sent  for  Julia,  told  her  it 
was  settled,  kissed  Osborn 

MRS.  GREEN — What!  ! 

MRS.  CARP — It's  as  true  as  you  set  there.  I'll 
never  budge  out  of  this  seat,  if  it  ain't 

JULIA — But  Ma,  you  ought  to  remember, 
Clarissa  said  that  she  only  did  that  to  keep  brother 
Osborn  from  killing  himself,  not  from  love — he, 
he,  he! 

MRS.  GREEN — What!  Why  what  did  she 
think  he  was  going  to  kill  himself  for? 

JULIA — Oh!  for  love  of  her,  of  course.  But 
I've  no  doubt  Clarissa  thought  so;  for  I  can't 
think  she  would  have  said  it,  if  she  hadn't;  but 
wasn't  it  a  strange  notion,  Mrs.  Green? 

MRS.  GREEN — Strange?  why  I  wouldn't  be 
lieve  it  if  all  the  men  in  Georgia  were  to  say  so. 

MRS.  CARP — Now,  Julia,  you  needn't  go  to 
making  apologies  for  Clarissa.  I  know  you  never 
can  think  she  does  wrong  or  thinks  wrong;  but 
nobody  '11  believe  you;  so  you'd  as  well  stop 
your  excuses, — and  considering  it's  your  own 
brother,  I  don't  think  it's  any  credit  to  you. 

JULIA — Well,  Ma,  I  cannot  help  loving  Clarissa, 
no  matter  how  she  treats  me. 


1 70          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

MRS.  CARP — Well,  as  I  was  saying,  after  all 
their  hugging  and  kissing,  and  her  telling  Osborn 
she  was  so  happy,  and  how  happy  all  of  us  was 
to  be,  over  she  comes  to  my  house,  and  ups  and 
tells  me  all  about  how  she  came  to  take  him,  be 
cause  he  was  all  this  and  all  that.  Well,  that 
very  evening  she  sticks  herself  down  by  Mr. 
Fisher  - 

JULIA — No,  Ma,  he  took  a  seat  by  her;  she  did 
not  go  to  him.  Do  Clarissa  justice. 

MRS.  CARP — Well,  it's  the  same  thing.  As  soon 
as  Fisher  sat  down  by  her,  "Mr.  Fisher,"  says 
she,  "everybody  says  I'm  engaged  to  be  married, 
but  it's  not  so  -  -" 

JULIA — Oh !  no,  Ma 

MRS.  CARP — Why,  I'll  be  shot  if  you  didn't  tell 
me  so  yourself. 

JULIA — No,  Ma,  I  said  with  the  -first  question 
he  asked  her,  she  began  to  say  she  was  not 
engaged. 

MRS.  CARP — Well,  did  he  ask  her  if  she  was 
engaged — tell  me  that? 

JULIA — No,  he  made  no  allusion  to  her. 

MRS.  CARP — And  wasn't  the  first  word  she  said, 
that  she  wasn't  engaged? 

JULIA — Oh,  yes;  and  she  repeated  it  several 
times,  but 


THE  MATCHMAKER  171 

MRS.  CARP — But  what?  Now,  I  wonder  how 
much  you've  bettered  it? 

MRS.  GREEN — Why,  Julia,  how  could  you,  who 
knew  all  about  it,  set  by  and  hear  her  run  on  so? 

JULIA — Clarissa  has  been  a  dear  friend  of  mine, 
Mrs.  Green,  as  everybody  knows;  and  besides  it 
was  my  own  house.  I  did  at  last  venture  to  say 
to  Mr.  Fisher,  that  he  wasn't  lawyer  enough  to 
find  out  a  lady's  engagement;  and  oh,  me!  she 
flew  in  such  a  passion,  you  can't  think!  I  got 
scared,  and  got  away  as  quick  as  I  could. 

MRS.  CARP — Had  you  heard  anything  about  it? 

MRS.  GREEN — Sally  told  me  she  saw  that  some 
thing  was  the  matter  with  you  and  Clarissa,  just 
at  the  breaking  up  of  the  party;  but  she  didn't 
know  what  it  was. 

The  visitors  retired,  and  they  had  left  the 
house  but  a  few  minutes  before  Sally  entered. 

"Well,"  said  her  mother,  "Mrs.  Carp  and 
Julia  have  been  here,  and  told  the  whole  story 
about  Osborn  and  Clarissa,  and  I  don't  suppose 
such  a  pack  of  barefaced  falsehoods  was  ever 
told  upon  any  poor  girl  since  the  world  was 
made.  They  make  out  she  was  kissing  Osborn 
all  day  before  the  party, — and  that  she  said  she 
only  kissed  him  to  keep  him  from  killing  himself 
for  love  of  her, — that  she  came  over  to  Mrs.  Carp's 


1 72         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

bragging  about  getting  Osborn,  and  how  happy 
all  were, — and  then  as  soon  as  she  got  into  the 
party,  she  bounced  up  and  ran  and  popp'd  her 
self  in  a  seat  by  Mr.  Fisher,  and  began  to  gabble 
out,  'Mr.  Fisher,  I  a'n't  engaged;  Mr.  Fisher,  / 
a'n't  engaged ' — and  then  got  in  a  furious  passion 
at  Julia  for  saying  lawyers  knew  no  more  about 
girls'  engagements  than  other  people.  I  don't 
believe  one  word  of  it.  Clarissa  Gage  would  put 
her  head  in  the  fire  before  she'd  take  on  at 
these  tricks.  The  story  belies  itself  from  A 
to  Z." 

Sally's  eyes  opened  wider  and  wider  at  every 
word  of  the  narrative,  and  when  it  was  concluded 

she  exclaimed,   "  Why,   Ma,   it's  as  big  a no 

such-a-thing  as  ever  was  told.  I  saw  it  all,  and 
there  a'n't  a  word  of  truth  in  it.  It  was  just  pre 
cisely  as  I  told  you  it  was." 

In  three  days'  time,  all  the  old  ladies  of  the 
village  had  talked  the  matter  over,  and  every 
one  told  "how  she  heard  it."  No  two  had  heard 
it  exactly  alike ;  but  as  they  all  agreed  in  the  essen 
tials,  the  prevailing  opinion  was  that  Clarissa  was 
much  to  blame.  The  young  ladies  were  pretty 
equally  divided.  The  young  gentlemen  (a  majority 
of  them,  that  is)  considered  nobody  to  blame  but 
Fisher.  While  the  old  gentlemen  thought  the 


THE  MATCHMAKER  173 

whole  town  to  blame,  for  making  such  a  fuss 
about  young  people's  love  scrapes. 

All  the  stories  soon  got  to  Mrs.  Dove's  ears, 
and  she  resolved  to  have  the  matter  rectified. 
So  she  set  out  upon  the  grand  rounds,  beginning 
with  Mrs.  Bacon.  After  a  salutation  and  a  few 
preliminaries — "Now,"  said  she,  "Mrs.  Bacon,  I 
never  intended  to  have  said  anything  about  this 
matter,  but  so  many  abominable  falsehoods  have 
been  hatched  up  about  my  daughter " 

"  God  bless  your  soul,  honey,  I  never  believed 
one  word  of  them,  from  the  first, — everybody  will 
tell  you  so.  I  haven't  two  eyes  and  two  ears  for 
nothing." 

"  I  know  you  did  not  believe  them — I  heard 
that ;  and  I  thank  you  for  taking  our  part  as  you 
did.  The  truth  is,  the  Carps  have  been  trying 
in  all  ways,  for  two  years,  to  make  a  match  be 
tween  Osborn  and  Clarissa " 

"There!  there!  what  did  I  tell  Sally  Green  and 
her  mother,  and  my  old  man!  Now  the  cat's 
out  of  the  wallet.  Now  I  hope  people  '11  be 
lieve  me." 

"Osborn  is  a  clever  young  man  enough,  and 
Clarissa  liked  him  as  a  friend,  but  never  would  let 
him  court  her  - 

"Ah!  honey,  Osborn  seems  mighty  clever,  and 


i74         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

all  that;  but  you  better  not  trust  any  of  'em  too 
far,  I  tell  you.  I  don't  like  the  blood.  That 
Carp  blood  won't  do  now,  I  tell  you." 

"Well,  Osborn  always  behaved  himself  very 
clever  to  us.  At  last  he  proposed  himself  to 
Clarissa,  in  spite  of  all  she  could  do." 

"  Proposed  himself  against  her  consent!  What 
impudence?  Didn't  I  tell  you  he  wouldn't  do?" 

"Clarissa  refused  him  then  plainly  and  flatly. 
A  night  or  two  after,  Julia  comes  over,  and  tells 
Clarissa  that  Osborn  was  going  to  kill  him 
self." 

"And  did  she  think  Clarissa  was  fool  enough  to 
believe  that?" 

"Oh,  bless  you,  any  one  would  have  believed 
her,  the  way  she  went  on.  She  cried " 

"Oh!  did  she  cry?" 

"Cry,  yes;  as  if  her  heart  would  break!" 

"Oh!  that  indeed!  That  alters  the  case.  If 
she  took  on  at  that  rate,  I  don't  wonder  at 
Clarissa's  believing  her.  I  thought  she  just  told 
it  in  a  plain  sort  of  way." 

"No,  she  wept  and  sobbed,  and  told  what  dis 
tress  her  mother  was  in;  and  said  that  they 
knew  his  disposition  better  than  any  body  in  the 
world,  and  that  they  looked  for  nothing  else  but 
that  he  would  be  brought  home  all  weltering  in 


THE  MATCHMAKER  175 

his  gore, — until  she  frightened  Clarissa,  poor  child, 
almost  out  of  her  senses." 

"Well,  it  bangs  anything  that  ever  I  heard  of 
in  all  my  livelong  born  days.  Why,  she  ought 
to  be  penetensh'd." 

"She  begged  Clarissa  to  see  Osborn,  and  try 
to  get  him  not  to  kill  himself.  She  said,  as 
for  her  refusing  Osborn,  she  didn't  mind 
that " 

"And  that  was  a  whopper,  I  know." 

"Clarissa  begged  her  not  to  suffer  her  refusal 
of  Osborn  to  interrupt  their  friendship;  for  the 
idea  of  their  getting  angry  with  her  distressed 
very  much " 

"  Poor  child,  if  she  knew  them  as  well  as  I  do, 
she'd  'a'  thought  it  good  riddance " 

"Julia  gave  her  to  understand,  that  if  Osborn's 
life  could  be  saved,  all  would  be  happy.  Well, 
she  goes  home  and  tells  Osborn  Clarissa  wanted 
to  see  him " 

"What  a  lie!" 

"So  he  comes  in  a  mighty  good  humor,   of 


course 


"No  doubt  of  that." 

-  as  he  supposed  she  had  changed  her 
mind.  Clarissa  was  surprised  and  pleased  to 
see  him  look  so  little  like  killing  himself,  and  met 


i;6         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

him  very  cheerfully.  After  hinting  at  what  she 
had  heard,  she  asked  him  if  he  had  any  idea  of 
destroying  himself.  And  he  said  such  an  idea 
never  entered  his  head  - 

"There  we  have  it;  the  Carps  over  again. 
Mother  and  sister  lie,  and  brother  catch  'em  in  it.'' 

"Well,  Clarissa  was  so  delighted  to  hear  that, 
and  to  think  that  they  would  all  be  friends  now 
as  before,  that  she  sends  off  Osborn  for  Julia,  to 
tell  her  she  needn't  be  afraid  of  his  killing  him 
self;  and  said  to  Osborn  that  all  would  now  be 
happy." 

"  Just  to  tease  him?  He  deserved  it,  a  chuckle- 
head!" 

"  No,  not  to  tease  him ;  but  because  she  thought 
it  would  please  them  all  so  much,  to  know  that 
he  was  not  going  to  destroy  himself;  and  she 
would  be  happy,  because  now  all  would  be 
friends." 

"Oh!  ah!  yes.     That  was  all  right!" 

"Osborn  thought  that  this  was  because  she 
had  changed  her  mind " 

"What  a  fool!" 

" and  that  she  was  going  to  make  them  all 

happy  by  marrying  him ' 

"I  declare!     Marry  him!    A  pretty  story." 

"Well,  I  suppose  Osborn  told  'em  so  when  he 


THE  MATCHMAKER  177 

went  home  for  Julia;  for  she  came  over  in  the 
finest  humor  in  the  world " 

"Til  be  bound." 

"The  girls  met,  both  pleased,  and  they  em 
braced  as  they  used  to  do.  Clarissa  took  Julia 
one  side,  to  tell  her  she  needn't  be  alarmed  about 
Osborn's  killing  himself;  and  just  as  she  began, 
Mr.  Fisher  came " 

"  I  know  him  mighty  well.  He  stays  with 
me — and  he's  the  cleverest  lawyer  and  the  clever 
est  man  I  ever  saw." 

"Clarissa  never  had  an  opportunity  of  saying 
any  more  before  the  party." 

"And  all  this  rigmarole  they've  been  telling, 
about  Clarissa  kissing  Osborn,  turns  out  just  as 
I  expected,  to  be  a  pack  o'  lies." 

"Why — yes,  as  they  tell  it,  it  is  not  true. 
The  way  of  it  was  this:  when  she  kissed  Julia, 
Osborn  said  he  hoped  she  had  a  kiss  for  him. 
Clarissa  said  yes,  she  would  now  give  him  one 
kiss  if  he  would  never  ask  her  for  another — 
meaning  that,  as  he  had  resolved  not  to  take  it 
to  heart  that  she  had  refused  him,  but  meant  to 
be  a  friend  as  before,  and  had  relieved  all  from 
fear,  she  would  kiss  him  once." 

"Oh!  that  was  the  way  of  it!  I  don't  blame 
her  at  all  for  that." 

12 


1 78         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"I  wish  Clarissa  had  not  done  it;  but  in  a 
thoughtless  moment  of  delight  she  did  it;  and 
didn't  suppose  that  it  would  ever  be  thought  of 
again." 

"Why,  it  was  perfectly  right  in  the  way  she 
did  it.  The  thing  coming  upon  her  unexpected, 
and  she  not  thinking,  and  taken  unawares,  and 
just  kissing  his  sister,  and  he  standing  there,  and 
all  in  a  good  humor,  and  in  a  frolic!  1  don't 
wonder  at  it  at  all.  Any  girl  in  the  world  would 
'a*  done  the  same  thing." 

"Well,  to  go  on  with  my  story.  It  happened 
that  while  Osborn  and  Julia  were  at  her  house, 
Mrs.  Bull  went  over  to  Mrs.  Carp's " 

"There!  there!  what  did  I  tell  my  old  man! 
Do  stop  a  moment,  Mrs.  Dove,  and  let  me  bring 
him  in  to  hear  it  with  his  own  ears;  for  he  never 
will  believe  what  I  say." 

"Never  mind,  Mrs.  Bacon;  it's  not  of  much 
importance.  Mrs.  Carp,  I  suppose,  told  Mrs. 
Bull  that  Osborn  and  Clarissa  were  engaged ;  and 
Mrs.  Bull  told  it  to  I  don't  know  how  many " 

"  Why,  bless  your  soul,  honey,  she  made  a  blow 
ing  horn  of  it.  She  told  it  at  dinner,  I  reckon, 
for  it  was  all  over  town  before  night.  Mr.  Fisher 
told  me  just  before  he  started  to  the  party;  and" 
(lowering  her  voice)  "he  looked  mighty  sorry 


THE  MATCHMAKER  179 

about  it  too,  I  tell  you.  But  I  told  him  as  I  told 
my  old  man,  that  it  was  nothing  but  a  Bull  tale, 
and  they'd  see  it.  The  Bull  boarders  want  to 
drive  him  off,  that's  the  chat;  for  they've  no 
notion  of  the  way  the  gals  look  at  him.  I  stay 
at  home  here  and  mind  my  own  business,  but 
I've  got  two  eyes  for  all  that,  and  two  ears, 
too." 

"Mrs.  Bull  told  at  least  enough  to  make  it 
common  talk  at  the  party.  For  a  long  time 
Clarissa  thought  nothing  of  it ;  but  at  last,  think 
ing  over  all  the  day's  doings,  and  the  conduct  of 
all  the  Carps  to  her,  it  flashed  upon  her  mind  that 
it  might  have  grown  out  of  what  had  passed  be 
tween  her  and  Osborn  that  day.  She  thought 
she  saw  something  in  Julia's  conduct  to  Mr. 
Fisher " 

"  Now  you're  coming  to  it.  Now  you  begin  to 
hit  the  nail  right  spang  upon  the  head.  Sally 
Green  saw  it — Sally  saw  how  the  Carp  was  nib 
bling  at  that  fishing-hook,  but  he  wouldn't  jerk." 

"Clarissa  saw,  or  thought  she  saw,  that  Julia 
was  encouraging  the  report;  and  as  Mr.  Fisher 
gave  her  a  fair  opportunity  of  denying  it,  she  did 
so.  Julia  intimated  that  it  was  true,  and  this 
led  to  an  explanation." 

"  Well,  it's  all  turned  out  just  as  I  said  it  would. 


i8o         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Now,  I  hope  people  will  see  what  the  Bulls  and 
Carps  are." 

This  story  was  no  sooner  circulated  than  it 
gained  a  large  majority  of  all  ages  and  sexes  to 
the  Dove  side. 

Fisher  courted  Clarissa  and  married  her. 
Eighteen  months  afterwards,  Julia  married  a  Dr. 
John  Smith,  who  had  recently  settled  in  the  vil 
lage;  and  about  a  year  after  that,  Osborn  mar 
ried  a  fine  girl  of  a  neighboring  village — and  all 
lived  as  happily  as  married  people  usually  live. 


VIII. 
"A  CHARMING  WIFE." 

My  nephew  George  Baldwin  was  but  ten  years 
younger  than  myself.  He  was  the  son  of  a  plain, 
practical,  sensible  farmer,  who,  without  the  ad 
vantages  of  a  liberal  education,  had  enriched  his 
mind  by  study  and  observation  with  a  fund  of 
useful  knowledge  rarely  possessed  by  those  who 
move  in  his  sphere  of  life.  His  wife  was  one  of 
the  most  lovely  of  women.  She  was  pious,  but 
not  austere;  cheerful,  but  not  light;  generous, 
but  not  prodigal;  economical,  but  not  close;  hos 
pitable,  but  not  extravagant.  In  native  powers 
of  mind  she  was  every  way  my  brother's  equal; 
in  acquirements  she  was  decidedly  his  superior. 
To  this  I  have  his  testimony  as  well  as  my  own; 
but  it  was  impossible  to.  discover  in  her  conduct 
anything  going  to  show  that  she  coincided  with 
us  in  opinion.  To  have  heard  her  converse  you 
would  have  supposed  she  did  nothing  but  read; 
to  have  looked  through  the  departments  of  her 
household  you  would  have  supposed  she  never 
read.  Everything  which  lay  within  her  little 
province  bore  the  impress  of  her  hand  or  ac- 

(181) 


1 82          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

knowledged  her  supervision.  Order,  neatness, 
and  jcleanliness  prevailed  everywhere.  All  pro 
visions  were  given  out  with  her  own  hands,  and 
she  could  tell  precisely  the  quantity  of  each  arti 
cle  that  it  would  require  to  serve  a  given  number 
of  persons,  without  stint  or  wasteful  profusion. 
In  the  statistics  of  domestic  economy  she  was 
perfectly  versed.  She  would  tell  you,  with  aston 
ishing  accuracy,  how  many  pounds  of  cured  ba 
con  you  might  expect  from  a  given  weight  of 
fresh  pork;  how  many  quarts  of  cream  a  given 
quantity  of  milk  would  yield;  how  much  butter 
so  much  cream;  how  much  of  each  article  it 
would  take  to  serve  so  many  persons  a  month  or 
a  year.  Supposing  no  change  in  the  family,  and 
she  would  tell  to  a  day  when  a  given  quantity  of 
provisions  of  any  kind  would  be  exhausted.  She 
reduced  to  certain  knowledge  everything  that 
could  be;  and  she  approximated  to  it  as  nearly 
as  possible  with  those  matters  that  could  not  be. 
And  yet  she  scolded  less  and  whipped  less  than 
any  mistress  of  a  family  I  ever  saw.  The  reason 
is  obvious.  Everything  under  her  care  went  on 
with  perfect  system.  To  each  servant  were  allot 
ted  his  or  her  respective  duties,  and  to  each  was 
assigned  the  time  in  which  those  duties  were  to 
be  performed.  During  this  time  she  suffered 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  183 

them  not  to  be  interrupted,  if  it  was  possible  to 
protect  them  from  interruption.  Her  children 
were  permitted  to  give  no  orders  to  servants  but 
through  her,  until  they  reached  the  age  at  which 
they  were  capable  of  regulating  their  orders  by 
her  rules.  She  laid  no  plans  to  detect  her  ser 
vants  in  theft,  but  she  took  great  pains  to  con 
vince  them  that  they  could  not  pilfer  without 
detection;  and  this  did  she  without  betraying 
any  suspicions  of  their  integrity.  Thus  she  would 
have  her  biscuits  uniformly  of  a  size,  and,  under 
the  form  of  instructions  to  her  cook,  she  would 
show  her  precisely  the  quantity  of  flour  which  it 
took  to  make  so  many  biscuits.  After  all  this, 
she  exposed  her  servants  to  as  few  temptations  as 
possible.  She  never  sent  them  to  the  larder  un 
attended,  if  she  could  avoid  it,  and  never  placed 
them  under  the  watch  of  children.  She  saw 
that  they  were  well  provided  with  everything 
they  needed,  and  she  indulged  them  in  recrea 
tions  when  she  could.  No  service  was  required 
of  them  on  the  Sabbath  further  than  to  spread 
the  table  and  to  attend  it;  a  service  which  was 
lightened  as  much  as  possible  by  having  the  pro 
visions  of  that  day  very  simple,  and  prepared  the 
day  before. 

Such,  but  half  described,  were  the  father  and 


i84         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

mother  of  George  Baldwin.  He  was  their  only 
son  and  eldest  child ;  but  he  had  two  sisters,  Mary 
and  Martha,  the  first  four  and  the  second  six  years 
younger  than  himself — a  son  next  to  George 
having  died  in  infancy.  The  two  eldest  children 
inherited  their  names  from  their  parents,  and  all 
of  them  grew  up  worthy  of  the  stock  from  which 
they  sprang. 

George,  having  completed  his  education  at 
Princeton,  where  he  was  graduated  with  great 
honor  to  himself,  returned  to  Georgia  and  com 
menced  the  study  of  the  law.  After  studying  a 
year  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  just  after  he 
had  completed  his  one-and-twentieth  year.  I 
have  been  told  by  gentlemen  who  belong  to  this 
profession  that  one  year  is  too  short  a  time  for 
preparation  for  the  intricacies  of  legal  lore;  and 
it  may  be  so,  but  I  never  knew  a  young  man 
acquit  himself  more  creditably  than  George  did 
in  his  maiden  speech. 

He  located  himself  in  the  city  of ,  seventy 

miles  from  his  father's  residence;  and,  after  the 
lapse  of  three  years,  he  counted  up  eight  hundred 
dollars  as  the  net  profits  of  his  last  year's  prac 
tice.  Reasonably  calculating  that  his  receipts 
would  annually  increase  for  several  years  to 
come,  having  no  expenses  to  encounter  except 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  185 

for  his  board  and  clothing  (for  his  father  had 
furnished  him  with  a  complete  library),  he  now 
thought  of  taking  to  himself  a  helpmate.  Hith 
erto  he  had  led  a  very  retired,  studious  life;  but 
now  he  began  to  court  the  society  of  ladies. 

About  this  time  Miss  Evelina  Caroline  Smith 
returned  to  the  city  from  Philadelphia,  where, 
after  an  absence  of  three  years,  she  had  com 
pleted  her  education.  She  was  the  only  child  of 
a  wealthy,  unlettered  merchant,  who,  rather  by 
good  luck  than  good  management,  had  amassed 
a  fortune  of  about  fifty  thousand  dollars.  Mr. 
Smith  was  one  of  those  men  who  conceived  that 
all  earthly  greatness,  and  consequently  all  earthly 
bliss,  concentred  in  wealth.  The  consequence 
was  inevitable.  To  the  poor  he  was  haughty, 
supercilious,  and  arrogant,  and,  not  unfrequently, 
wantonly  insolent;  to  the  rich  he  was  friendly, 
kind,  or  obsequious,  as  their  purses  equalled  or 
overmeasured  his  own.  His  wife  was  even  below 
himself  in  moral  stature ;  proud,  loquacious,  silly. 
Evelina  was  endowed  by  nature  with  a  good  mind, 
and,  what  her  parents  esteemed  of  infinitely 
more  value,  she  was  beautiful  from  her  infancy 
to  the  time  when  I  introduced  her  to  the  reader, 
which  was  just  after  she  had  completed  her 
seventeenth  year.  Evelina's  time,  between  her 


i86         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

" sixth  and  fourteenth  year,  had  been  chiefly  em 
ployed  in  learning  from  her  father  and  mother 
what  a  perfect  beauty  she  was,  and  what  kind 
of  gewgaws  exhibited  her  beauty  to  the  greatest 
advantage,  how  rich  she  would  be,  and  "what 
havoc  she  would  make  of  young  men's  hearts 
by-and-by. "  In  these  instructive  lectures  her 
parents  sometimes  found  gratuitous  help  from 
silly  male  and  female  visitors,  who,  purely  to  win 
favor  from  the  parents,  would  expatiate  on  the 
perfection  of  "the  lovely,"  "charming/'  "beauti 
ful  little  creature"  in  her  presence.  The  conse 
quence  was  that  pride  and  vanity  became,  at  an 
early  age,  the  leading  traits  of  the  child's  char 
acter,  and  admiration  and  flattery  the  only  food 
which  she  could  relish.  Her  parents  subjected 
themselves  to  the  loss  of  her  society  for  three 
years,  while  she  was  at  school  in  Philadelphia, 
from  no  better  motive  than  to  put  her  on  an 
equality  with  Mr.  B.'s  and  Mr.  C.'s  daughters; 
or,  rather,  to  imitate  the  examples  of  Messrs. 
B.  &  C.,  merchants  of  the  same  city,  who  were 
very  rich. 

While  she  was  in  Philadelphia  Evelina  was 
well  instructed.  She  was  taught  in  what  female 
loveliness  truly  consists,  the  qualities  which  de 
servedly  command  the  respect  of  the  wise  and 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  187 

good,  and  the  deportment  which  insures  to  a  fe 
male  the  admiration  of  all.  But  Evelina's  mind 
had  received  a  bias  from  which  these  lessons  could 
not  relieve  it,  and  the  only^  effect  of  them  upon 
her  was  to  make  her  an  accomplished  hypocrite, 
with  all  her  other  foibles.  She  improved  her  in 
structions  only  to  the  gratification  of  her  ruling 
passion.  In  music  she  made  some  proficiency, 
because  she  saw  in  it  a  ready  means  of  gaining 
admiration. 

George  Baldwin  had  formed  a  partial  acquaint 
ance  with  Mr.  Smith  before  the  return  of  his 
daughter,  but  he  rather  shunned  than  courted  a 
closer  intimacy.  Smith,  however,  had  intrusted 
George  with  some  professional  business,  found 
him  trustworthy,  and  thought  he  saw  in  him  a 
man  who,  at  no  very  distant  day,  was  to  become 
distinguished  for  both  wealth  and  talents;  and, 
upon  a  very  short  acquaintance,  he  took  occasion 
to  tell  him  "that  whoever  married  his  daughter 
should  receive  the  next  day  a  check  for  twenty 
thousand  dollars.  That'll  do,"  continued  he, 
"to  start  upon;  and  when  I  and  the  old  woman 
drop  off  she  will  get  thirty  more."  This  had 
an  effect  upon  George  directly  opposite  to  that 
which  it  was  designed  to  have. 

Miss   Smith  had   been  at   home   about   three 


1 88         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

weeks,  and  the  whole  town  had  sounded  the 
praises  of  her  beauty  and  accomplishments;  but 
George  had  not  seen  her,  though  Mr.  Smith 
had  in  the  meantime  given  him  several  notes 
to  collect,  with  each  of  which  he  "wondered 
how  it  happened  that  two  so  much  alike  as  him 
self  and  George  had  never  been  more  intimate, 
and  hoped  he  would  come  over  in  a  sociable  way 
and  see  him  often."  About  this  time,  however, 
George  received  a  special  invitation  to  a  large 
tea-party  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  which  he 
could  not  with  propriety  reject,  and  accordingly 
he  went.  He  was  received  at  the  door  by  Mr. 
Smith,  announced  upon  entering  the  drawing- 
room,  and  conducted  through  a  crowd  of  gen 
tlemen  to  Miss  Smith,  to  whom  he  was  intro 
duced  with  peculiar  emphasis.  He  made  his 
obeisance  and  retired;  for  common  politeness 
required  him  to  bestow  his  attentions  upon  some 
of  the  many  ladies  in  the  room,  who  were  neg 
lected  by  the  gentlemen  in  their  rivalship  for  a 
smile  or  word  from  Miss  Evelina.  She  was  the 
admiration  of  all  the  gentlemen,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  two  or  three  young  ladies,  who 
"thought  her  too  affected,"  she  was  praised  by 
all  the  ladies.  In  short,  by  nearly  universal  testi 
mony  she  was  pronounced  "  a  charming  creature. " 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  189 

An  hour  had  elapsed  before  George  found  an 
opportunity  of  giving  her  those  attentions  which, 
as  a  guest  of  the  family,  courtesy  required  from 
him.  The  opportunity  was  at  length,  however, 
furnished  by  himself.  In  circling  round  the 
room  to  entertain  the  company,  she  reached 
George  just  as  the  seat  next  to  him  had  been 
vacated.  This  she  occupied,  and  a  conversation 
ensued,  with  every  word  of  which  she  gained 
upon  his  respect  and  esteem.  Instead  of  find 
ing  her  that  gay,  volatile,  vain  creature  whom 
he  expected  to  find  in  the  rich  and  beautiful 
daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  he  found  her 
a  modest,  sensible,  unassuming  girl,  whose  views 
upon  all  subjects  coincided  precisely  with  his 
own. 

"She  yielded  to  the  wishes  of  her  parents, 
from  a  sense  of  duty,  in  giving  and  attending 
parties;  but  she  always  left  them  under  the 
conviction  that  the  time  spent  at  them  was  worse 
than  wasted.  It  was  really  a  luxury  to  her  to 
retire  from  the  idle  chit-chat  of  them,  and  to 
spend  a  few  minutes  in  conversation  with  a  male 
or  female  friend  who  would  consider  it  no  dis 
respect  to  the  company  to  talk  rationally  upon 
such  occasions.  And  yet,  in  conducting  such 
conversations  at  such  times,  it  was  so  difficult  to 


1 90         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

avoid  the  appearance  of  pedantry,  and  to  keep 
it  from  running  into  something  too  stiff  or  too 
grave  for  a  social  circle,  that  she  really  was 
afraid  to  court  them."  As  to  books,  "she  read 
but  very  few  novels,  though  her  ignorance  of 
them  often  exposed  her  to  some  mortification; 
but  she  felt  that  her  ignorance  here  was  a  com 
pliment  to  her  taste  and  delicacy,  which  made 
ample  amends  for  the  mortifications  to  which  it 
forced  her  occasionally  to  submit.  With  Hannah 
More,  Mrs.  Chapone,  Bennett,  and  other  writers 
of  the  same  class  she  was  very  familiar"  (and  she 
descanted  upon  the  peculiar  merits  of  each) ;  "  but, 
after  all,  books  were  of  small  consequence  to  a 
lady  without  those  domestic  virtues  which  enable 
her  to  blend  superior  usefulness  with  superior 
acquirements;  and  if  learning  or  usefulness  must 
be  forsaken,  it  had  better  be  the  first.  Of  music 
she  was  extravagantly  fond,  and  she  presumed 
she  ever  would  be;  but  she  confessed  she  had  no 
taste  for  its  modern  refinements." 

Thus  she  went  on  with  the  turns  of  the  con 
versation  and  as  she  caught  George's  views.  It 
is  true  she  would  occasionally  drop  a  remark 
which  did  not  harmonize  exactly  with  these 
dulcet  strains;  and  in  her  rambles  over  the 
world  of  science  she  would  sometimes  seem  at 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  191 

fault  where  George  thought  she  ought  to  have 
been  perfectly  at  home;  but  he  found  a  thou 
sand  charitable  ways  of  accounting  for  all  this, 
not  one  of  which  led  to  the  idea  that  she  might 
have  learned  these  diamond  sentiments  by  rote 
from  the  lips  of  her  preceptress.  Consequently, 
they  came  with  resistless  force  upon  the  citadel 
of  George's  heart,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour 
overpowered  it  completely. 

"Truly,"  thought  George,  "she  is  a  charming 
creature !  When  was  so  much  beauty  ever  blended 
with  such  unassuming  manners  and  such  intel 
lectual  endowments!  How  wonderful  that  the 
daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith  should  possess 
such  accomplishments!  How  dull — with  all  her 
filial  affection — how  dull  must  be  her  life  under 
the  parental  roof !  Not  a  companion,  not  a  sym 
pathetic  feeling  there !  How  sweet  it  would  be  to 
return  from  the  toils  of  the  courts  to  a  bosom 
friend  so  soft,  so  benevolent,  so  intelligent." 

Thus  ran  George's  thoughts  as  soon  as  Miss 
Smith  had  left  him  to  go  in  quest  of  new  con 
quests.  The  effects  of  her  short  interview  with 
him  soon  became  visible  to  every  eye.  His  con 
versation  lost  its  spirit,  was  interrupted  by  moody 
abstractions,  and  was  sillier  than  it  had  ever  been. 
George  had  a  fine  person,  and,  for  the  first  time 


STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 


in  his  life,  he  now  set  a  value  upon  it.  To  exhibit 
it  to  the  greatest  advantage,  he  walked  the  room 
under  various  pretences;  and  when  in  his  prom 
enades  he  caught  the  eye  of  Miss  Smith  resting 
upon  him  he  assumed  a  more  martial  or  theatric 
step,  which  made  him  look  ridiculous  at  the  time, 
and  feel  so  immediately  afterwards.  In  his  listless 
journey  ings  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a 
beautiful  cottage  scene  at  the  foot  of  which  glit 
tered,  in  golden  letters,  "  BY  EVELINA  CAROLINE 
SMITH,  OF  -  —  ,  GEORGIA.  " 

This  led  him  to  another,  and  another,  from  the 
same  pencil.     Upon  these  he  was  gazing  with  a 
look  and  attitude  the  most  complimentary  to  Miss 
Evelina  that  he  could  possibly  assume,  while  the 
following  remarks  were  going  the  rounds. 
"Do  you  notice  George  Baldwin?" 
"Oh  yes;  he's  in   for  it;  dead,   sir;  good-bye 
to  bail  writs  and  sassiperaris!" 

"Oh,  she's  only  put  an  attachment  on  him." 
"Really,  Miss  Smith,  it  was  too  bad  to  serve 
George  Baldwin  so  cruelly!" 

"Ah,  sir,  if  reports  are  true,  Mr.  Baldwin  is 
too  fond  of  his  books  to  think  of  any  lady,  much 
less  of  one  so  unworthy  of  his  attentions  as  I 


am." 


George  heard  this,  nestled  a  little,  threw  back 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  193 

his  shoulders,  placed  his  arms  akimbo,  and  looked 
at  the  picture  with  wonderful  independence. 

Then  Miss  Evelina  was  handed  to  the  piano, 
and  to  a  simple,  beautiful  air  she  sang  a  well- 
written  song,  the  burden  of  which  was  an  apology 
for  love  at  first  sight.  This  was  wanton  cruelty 
to  an  unresisting  captive.  To  do  her  justice, 
however,  her  performance  had  not  been  equalled 
during  the  evening. 

The  company  at  length  began  to  retire;  and, 
so  long  as  a  number  remained  sufficient  to  give 
him  an  apology  for  staying,  George  delayed  his 
departure.  The  last  group  of  ladies  and  gentle 
men  finally  rose,  and  George  commenced  a  fruit 
less  search  for  his  hat;  fruitless,  because  he  look 
ed  for  it  where  he  knew  it  was  not  to  be  found. 
But  a  servant  was  more  successful,  and  brought 
it  to  him  just  as  he  was  giving  up  the  search  as 
hopeless,  and  commencing  a  conversation  with 
Miss  Smith  for  the  night. 

"Why,  where  did  you  find  it?"  said  George, 
with  seeming  surprise  and  pleasure  at  the  dis 
covery. 

"Out  da,  in  de  entry,  sir,  wha  all  de  gentle 
men  put  da  hats." 

"Oh,  I  ought  to  have  known  that.  Good-bye, 
Miss  Evelina!"  said  George,  throwing  a  melting 

13 


i94         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

eloquence  into  the  first  word,  and  reaching  forth 
his  hand. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Baldwin!"  returned  she; 
"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  quite  so  great  a  stranger 
here  as  you  have  been.  Pa  has  often  wondered 
that  you  never  visit  him."  Here  she  relinquished 
his  hand  with  a  gentle  but  sensible  pressure, 
which  might  mean  two  or  three  things.  What 
ever  was  its  meaning,  it  ran  like  nitrous  oxide 
through  every  fibre  of  George's  composition,  and 
robbed  him  for  a  moment  of  his  last  ray  of  in 
tellect. 

"Believe  me,  Miss  Smith,"  said  he,  as  if  he 
were  opening  a  murder  case — "believe  me,  there 
are  fascinations  about  this  hospitable  home,  in 
the  delicate  touches  of  the  pencil  which  adorn  it, 
and  in  the  soft  breathings  of  the  piano,  awaked 
by  the  hand  which  I  have  just  relinquished,  which 
will  not  permit  me  to  delay,  as  heretofore,  those 
visits  which  professional  duty  requires  me  to 
make  to  your  kind  parent  (your  father)  a  single 
moment  beyond  the  time  that  his  claims  to  my 
respects  become  absolute.  Good-evening,  Miss 
Smith." 

"Did  ever  mortal  of  common-sense  talk  and 
act  so  much  like  an  arrant  fool  as  I  have  this 
evening?"  said  George,  as  the  veil  of  night  fell 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  195 

upon  the  visions  which  had  danced  before  his 
eyes  for  the  four  preceding  hours. 

Though  it  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  at  night 
when  he  reached  his  office,  he  could  not  sleep 
until  he  laid  the  adventures  of  the  evening  before 
his  father  and  mother.  The  return  mail  brought 
him  a  letter  from  his  parents,  written  by  his 
mother's  hand,  which  we  regret  we  cannot  give 
a  place  in  this  narrative.  Suffice  it  to  say,  it  was 
kind  and  affectionate,  but  entirely  too  cold  for 
the  temperature  of  George's  feelings.  It  admit 
ted  the  intrinsic  excellence  of  Miss  Smith's  views 
and  sentiments,  but  expressed  serious  apprehen 
sions  that  her  habits  of  life  would  prove  an  in 
superable  barrier  to  her  ever  putting  them  in  full 
practice.  "  We  all  profess,  my  dear  George, "  said 
the  amiable  writer,  "the  value  of  industry,  econ 
omy — in  short,  of  all  the  domestic  and  social 
virtues;  but  how  small  the  number  who  practice 
them!  Golden  sentiments  are  to  be  picked  up 
anywhere.  In  this  age  they  are  upon  the  lips  of 
everybody ;  but  we  do  not  find  that  they  exert  as 
great  an  influence  upon  the  morals  of  society  as 
they  did  in  the  infancy  of  our  republic,  when 
they  were  less  talked  of.  For  ourselves,  we  con 
fess  we  prize  the  gentleman  or  lady  who  habitu 
ally  practises  one  Christian  virtue  much  higher 


1 96         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

than  we  do  the  one  who  barely  lectures  eloquently 
upon  them  all.  But  we  are  not  so  weak  or  so 
uncharitable  as  to  suppose  that  none  who  dis 
course  fluently  upon  them  can  possess  them. 


"The  whole  moral  which  we  would  deduce 
from  the  foregoing  remarks  is  one  which  your 
own  observation  must  have  taught  you  a  thousand 
times:  that  but  little  confidence  is  to  be  reposed 
in  fine  sentiments  which  do  not  come  recom 
mended  by  the  life  and  conduct  of  the  person  who 
retails  them.  And  yet,  familiar  as  you  are  with 
this  truth,  you  certainly  have  more  command  over 
your  judgment  than  have  most  young  men  of 
your  age,  if  you  do  not  entirely  forget  it  the  mo 
ment  you  hear  such  sentiments  from  the  lips  of 
'a  lady  possessing  strong  personal  attractions. ' 
There  is  a  charm  in  beauty  which  even  philos 
ophy  is  constrained  to  acknowledge,  and  which 
youth  instinctively  transfers  to  all  the  moral  qual 
ities  of  its  possessor. 


"When  you  come  to  know  the  elements  of 
which  connubial  happiness  is  composed,  you  will 
be  astonished  to  find  that,  with  few  exceptions, 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE  "  197 

they  are  things  which  you  now  consider  the  veri 
est  trifles  imaginable.  It  is  a  happy  ordination 
of  Providence  that  it  should  be  so ;  for  this  brings 
matrimonial  bliss  within  the  reach  of  all  classes  of 
persons.  *  *  *  Harmony  of  thought  and  feel 
ing  upon  the  little  daily  occurrences  of  life,  conge 
niality  of  views  and  sentiments  between  yourselves, 
and  your  connections  on  either  side,  similarity  of 
habits  and  pursuits  among  your  immediate  rela 
tives  and  friends,  if  not  essential  to  nuptial  bliss, 
are  certainly  its  chief  ingredients. 

****** 

"  Having  pointed  you  to  the  sources  of  conju 
gal  felicity,  your  own  judgment  will  spare  my 
trembling  hand  the  painful  duty  of  pointing  you 
to  those  fountains  of  bitterness  and  woe;  but  I 
forget  that  I  am  representing  your  father  as  well 
as  myself." 

George  read  the  long  letter  from  which  the 
foregoing  extracts  are  taken  with  deep  interest 
and  with  some  alarm ;  but  he  was  not  in  a  situa 
tion  to  profit  by  his  parents'  counsels.  He  had 
visited  Miss  Smith  repeatedly  in  the  time  he  was 
waiting  to  hear  from  his  parents;  and  though 
he  had  discovered  many  little  foibles  in  her  char 
acter,  he  found  a  ready  apology  or  an  easy  remedy 
for  them  all. 


i98         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

The  lapse  of  a  few  months  found  them  engaged 
and  George  the  happiest  mortal  upon  earth. 

"And  now,  my  dear  Evelina,"  said  he,  as  soon 
as  they  had  interchanged  their  vows,  "I  go  to 
render  myself  worthy  of  the  honor  you  have  con 
ferred  upon  me.  My  studies,  which  love,  doubt, 
and  anxiety  have  too  long  interrupted,  shall  now 
be  renewed  with  redoubled  intensity.  My  Eve 
lina's  interest,  being  associated  with  all  my  labors, 
will  turn  them  to  pleasures;  my  honor  being 
hers,  I  shall  court  it  with  untiring  zeal.  She  will 
therefore  excuse  me  if  my  visits  are  not  repeated 
in  future  quite  as  often  as  they  have  been  here 
tofore." 

"What,  a 'ready,  Mr.  Baldwin!"  exclaimed  she, 
weeping  most  beautifully. 

"Why,  no,  not  for  the  world,  if  my  dear  Eve 
lina  says  not!  But  I  thought  that — I  flattered 
myself — I  hoped — my  Evelina  would  find  a  suffi 
cient  apology  in  the  motive." 

The  little  mistake  was  rectified  in  the  course  of 
an  hour,  and  they  parted  more  in  raptures  with 
each  other  than  they  had  ever  been. 

George  continued  his  visits  as  before,  and  in 
the  meantime  his  business  began  to  suffer  from 
neglect,  of  which  his  clients  occasionally  reminded 
him,  with  all  the  frankness  which  one  exhibits 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  199 

at  seeing  a  love  affair  carried  on  with  too  much 
zeal  and  at  his  expense.  In  truth,  George's  heart 
had  more  than  once  entertained  a  wish  (for  his 
lips  dare  not  utter  it)  that  his  charming  Evelina's 
affection  could  come  down  to  a  hundred  of  Wedge- 
wood  when  the  circuit  commenced,  and  give  him  a 
temporary  respite. 

The  evening  before  he  set  out  he  spent  with 
his  ''charming  Evelina,"  of  course,  and  the  in 
terview  closed  with  a  most  melting  scene;  but 
I  may  not  stop  to  describe  it.  Candor  constrains 
me  to  say,  however,  that  George  got  over  it  before 
he  reached  his  office,  which  he  entered  actually 
whistling  a  merry  tune. 

He  was  at  the  second  court  of  the  circuit,  and 
had  been  from  home  nearly  a  fortnight,  when 
one  of  his  friends  addressed  him  with,  "I'll  tell 
you  what  it  is,  Baldwin:  you'd  better  go  home 
or  Dr.  Bibb  will  cut  you  out.  There  have  been 
two  or  three  parties  in  town  since  you  came  away, 
at  all  of  which  Miss  Smith  and  Bibb  were  as  thick 
as  two  pickpockets.  The  whole  town's  talking 
about  them.  I  heard  a  young  lady  say  to  her, 
she'd  tell  you  how  she  was  carrying  on  with  Bibb ; 
and  she  declared,  upon  her  word  and  honor  (look 
ing  killniferously  at  Bibb),  that  she  only  knew 
you  as  her  father's  collecting  attorney." 


200         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

George  reddened  deeper  and  deeper  at  every 
word  of  this,  but  passed  it  off  with  a  hearty, 
hectic  laugh. 

It  was  on  Thursday  afternoon  that  he  received 
this  intelligence,  and  it  met  him  forty  miles 
from  home,  and  twenty-five  from  the  next  court 
in  order.  Two  of  his  cases  were  yet  undisposed 
of.  Of  these  he  gave  hasty  notes  to  one  of  his 
brethren,  in  order  to  guide  him  if  he  should  be 
forced  to  trial,  but  instructing  him  to  continue 
them  if  he  could.  Having  made  these  arrange 
ments,  Friday  afternoon,  at  five  o'clock,  found 
his  jaded  horse  at  his  office  door.  George  tarried 
here  no  longer  than  was  necessary  to  change  his 
apparel,  and  then  he  hastened  to  the  habitation 
of  his  "charming  Evelina." 

He  was  received  at  the  door  by  a  servant,  who 
escorted  him  to  the  drawing-room,  and  who, 
to  heighten  Evelina's  joy  by  surprise,  in 
structed  her  maid  to  tell  her  that  there  was  a 
gentleman  in  the  drawing-room  who  wished  to 
see  her. 

Minute  after  minute  rolled  away,  and  she  did 
not  make  her  appearance.  After  he  had  been 
kept  in  suspense  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
she  entered  the  room,  dressed  in  bridal  richness 
and  taste. 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  201 

"Why,  is  it  you?"  said  she,  rushing  to  him 
in  transports:  "I  thought  it  was  Dr.  Bibb." 

"And  who  is  Dr.  Bibb,  Evelina?"  said  George. 

"He's  a  young  physician,  with  whom  I  had 
a  partial  acquaintance  in  Philadelphia,  and  who 
has  just  settled  himself  in  this  place.  I  want 
you  to  get  acquainted  with  him,  for  he  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  young  gentlemen  I  ever 
knew  in  my  life. " 

"No  doubt  I  should  be  much  pleased  with 
him;  but  do  you  think  he  would  feel  himself 
much  honored  or  improved  by  an  acquaintance 
with  'your  father's  collecting  attorney'!" 

"Why!  Is  it  possible  that  Rebecca  Freeman 
has  told  you  that?  I  never  will  speak  to  her 
again.  I  am  the  most  persecuted  being  upon 
earth.  I  can  say  nothing  nor  do  nothing,  no 
matter  how  innocent,  which  some  one  does  not 
make  a  handle  of  to  injure  me. " 

Here  Miss  Evelina  burst  into  tears,  as  usual; 
but  there  being  a  little  passion  mingled  with  her 
tears  on  this  occasion,  her  weeping  was  not  quite 
as  interesting  as  it  had  been  before.  It  subdued 
George,  however,  and  paved  the  way  to  a  reconcil- 
ation.  The  obnoxious  expression  was  explained — 
rather  awkwardly,  indeed,  but  satisfactorily— 
and  Miss  Freeman  was  acquitted  of  all  blame. 


202         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Matters  were  just  placed  in  this  posture  when 
a  servant  arrived  to  inform  George  "that  some 
thing  was  the  matter  with  his  horse,  and  Mr. 
Cox  (his  landlord)  thought  he  was  going  to  die. " 

George  rose,  and  was  hastening  to  the  relief 
of  his  favorite  of  all  quadrupeds,  when  Miss  Smith 
burst  into  a  very  significant  but  affected  laugh. 

"Why,  what  is  it  amuses  you  so,  Evelina?" 
inquired  George,  with  some  surprise. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  said  she;  "I  was  only  thinking 
how  quick  Mr.  Baldwin  forgets  me  when  his 
horse  demands  his  attentions.  I  declare,  I'm 
right  jealous  of  my  rival." 

"Go  back,  boy,  and  tell  your  master  I  can't 
come  just  now;  but  I'll  thank  him  to  do  what 
he  can  for  the  poor  animal. " 

Mr.  Cox,  upon  receiving  this  intelligence,  and 
learning  the  business  which  engrossed  George's 
attention,  left  the  horse  to  take  care  of  himself; 
and  he  died  just  before  George  returned  from 
Mr.  Smith's. 

These,  and  a  thousand  little  annoyances  which 
we  may  not  enumerate,  urged  upon  George  the 
importance  of  hastening  the  nuptials  as  speedily 
as  possible. 

Accordingly,  by  all  the  dangers,  ills,  alarms, 
and  anxieties  which  attend  the  hours  of  engage- 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE  "  203 

ment,  he  pressed  her  to  name  the  happy  day 
within  the  coming  month  when  their  hearts  and 
their  destinies  should  be  inseparably  united. 

But  "she  could  not  think  of  getting  married 
for  two  years  yet  to  come ;  then  one  year  at  least. 
At  all  events,  she  could  not  appoint  a  day  until 
she  consulted  her  dear  Morgiana  Cornelia  Marsh, 
of  Canaan,  Vermont.  Morgiana  was  her  class 
mate,  and,  at  parting  in  Philadelphia,  they  had 
interchanged  pledges  that  whichever  got  married 
first  should  be  waited  upon  by  the  other." 

In  vain  did  George  endeavor  to  persuade  her 
that  this  was  a  schoolgirl  pledge,  which  Morgiana 
had  already  forgotten,  and  which  she  never  would 
fulfil.  His  arguments  only  provoked  a  reproof 
of  his  unjust  suspicions  of  the  "American  fair." 

Finding  his  arguments  here  unavailing,  he 
then  entreated  his  "charming  Evelina"  to  write 
immediately  to  Miss  Marsh  to  know  when  it 
would  be  agreeable  to  her  to  fulfil  her  promise. 

Weeks  rolled  away  before  Miss  Smith  could 
be  prevailed  upon  even  to  write  the  all-important 
letter.  She  despatched  it  at  last,  however,  and 
George  began  to  entertain  hopes  that  a  few  months 
would  make  the  dear  Evelina  his  own. 

In  the  meantime  his  business  fell  in  arrears, 
and  his  clients  complained  loudly  against  him. 


204         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

He  was  incessantly  tortured  with  false  rumors 
of  his  coldness  and  indifference  towards  Miss 
Smith,  and  of  the  light  and  disrespectful  remarks 
which  he  had  made  upon  her;  but  he  was  much 
more  tortured  by  her  unabated  thirst  for  balls  and 
parties  of  pleasure;  her  undiminished  love  of 
general  admiration,  and  the  unconcealed  encour 
agement  which  she  gave  to  the  attentions  of  Dr. 
Bibb.  The  effect  which  these  things  had  upon 
his  temper  was  visible  to  all  his  friends.  He  be 
came  fretful,  petulant,  impatient,  and  melancholy. 
Dr.  Bibb  proved,  in  truth,  to  be  a  most  accom 
plished,  intelligent  gentleman;  and  was  the  man 
who,  above  all  others,  George  would  have  selected 
for  his  friend  and  companion,  had  not  the  impru 
dences  of  Evelina  transformed  him  into  a  rival. 
As  things  were,  however,  his  accomplishments 
only  embittered  George's  feelings  towards  him, 
provoked  from  George  cruel,  misplaced,  and  un 
natural  sarcasms,  which  the  world  placed  to  the 
account  of  jealousy,  and  in  which  George's  con 
science  forced  him  to  admit  that  the  world  did 
him  nothing  more  nor  less  than  sheer  justice. 

At  length  Miss  Morgiana's  letter  arrived.  It 
opened  with  expressions  of  deep  contrition  that 
the  writer  "  should  have  got  married  without 
giving  her  beloved  Evelina  an  opportunity  of 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  205 

fulfilling  her  promise;  but  really,  after  all,  she 
was  not  to  blame,  for  she  did  propose  to  write  to 
her  beloved  Evelina  to  come  on  to  Canaan,  but 
papa  and  Mr.  Huntington  (her  husband)  would 
not  hear  of  it ;  indeed,  they  both  got  almost  vexed 
that  she  should  think  of  such  a  thing.  *  *  * 
But  as  soon  as  my  beloved  Evelina  gets  married 
she  must  appoint  a  time  at  which  we  can  meet 
at  Philadelphia  with  our  husbands  and  compare 
notes.  *  *  *  I  have  a  thousand  secrets  to 
tell  you  about  married  life;  but  I  must  reserve 
them  till  we  meet.  A  thousand  kisses  to  your 
dear  George  for  me;  and  tell  him,  if  I  were  not  a 
married  woman  I  should  certainly  fall  in  love  with 
him,  from  your  description  of  him." 

"Well,  I  declare,"  said  Evelina,  as  she  folded 
up  the  letter,  "  I  could  not  have  believed  that 
Morgiana  would  have  served  me  so.  I  would 
have  died  before  I  would  have  treated  her  in  the 
same  way." 

The  great  obstacle  being  now  removed,  the 
wedding  night  was  fixed  at  the  shortest  time 
that  it  could  be  to  allow  the  necessary  prepara 
tions,  which  was  just  three  months  ahead. 

Before  these  three  months  rolled  away,  George 
became  convinced  that  he  had  staked  his  earthly 
happiness  upon  the  forlorn  hope  of  reforming 


2o6         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Miss  Smith's  errors  after  marriage;  but  his  sense 
of  honor  was  too  refined  to  permit  him  to  harbor 
a  thought  of  breaking  the  engagement;  and, 
indeed,  so  completely  had  he  become  enamoured 
of  her  that  any  perils  seemed  preferable  to  giving 
her  up  forever. 

He  kept  his  parents  faithfully  advised  of  all 
the  incidents  of  his  love  and  courtship,  and  every 
letter  which  he  forwarded  went  like  a  serpent 
into  the  Eden  of  peace  over  which  they  presided. 
Their  letters  to  him  never  came  unembalmed 
in  a  mother's  tears,  and  were  never  read  without 
the  tender  response  which  a  mother's  tears  ever 
draw  from  the  eyes  of  a  truly  affectionate  son. 

The  night  came,  and  George  and  Evelina  were 
married. 

A  round  of  bridal  parties  succeeded,  every  one 
of  which  served  only  to  heighten  George's  alarms 
and  to  depress  his  spirits.  He  could  not  dis 
cover  that  marriage  had  abated  in  the  smallest 
degree  his  wife's  love  of  general  admiration  and 
flattery.  The  delight  which  she  felt  at  the  at 
tentions  of  the  young  gentlemen  was  visible  to 
more  eyes  than  his,  as  was  plainly  evinced  by 
the  throngs  which  attended  her  wheresoever  she 
moved.  Occasionally  their  assiduities  assumed 
a  freedom  which  was  well  calculated  to  alarm 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE  "  207 

and  to  inflame  one  whose  notions  of  married  life 
were  much  less  refined  than  those  which  George 
had  ever  entertained;  but  there  was  an  apology 
for  them,  which  he  knew  he  would  be  forced  to 
admit,  flimsy  as  it  was  in  truth — namely,  "they 
were  only  those  special  attentions  which  were 
due  to  the  queen  of  a  bridal  party."  Another 
consideration  forced  him  to  look  in  silence  upon 
those  liberties.  His  wife  had  taken  no  offence 
at  them.  She  either  did  not  repel  them  at  all, 
or  she  repelled  them  in  such  a  good-humored 
way  that  she  encouraged  rather  than  prevented 
the  repetition  of  them.  For  him,  therefore,  to 
have  interposed  would  have  been  considered  an 
act  of  supererogation. 

To  the  great  delight  of  George,  the  parties 
ended,  and  the  young  couple  set  out  on  a  visit 
to  Lagrange,  the  residence  of  George's  parents. 
On  their  way  thither,  Evelina  was  secluded,  of 
course,  from  the  gaze  of  every  person  but  her 
husband;  and  her  attachment  now  became  as 
much  too  ardent  as  it  had  before  been  too  cold. 
If,  at  their  stages,  he  left  her  for  a  moment,  she 
was  piqued  at  his  coldness  or  distressed  at  his 
neglect.  If  he  engaged  in  a  conversation  with 
an  acquaintance  or  a  stranger  he  was  sure  to  be 
interrupted  by  his  wife's  waiting-maid,  Flora, 


208          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

with  "Miss  V'lina  say,  please  go  da,  sir;"  and 
when  he  went  he  always  found  her  in  tears  or 
in  a  pet  at  having  been  neglected  so  long  by 
him,  "when  he  knew  she  had  no  friend  or  com 
panion  to  entertain  her  but  himself." 

George  had  been  long  acquainted  with  the 
ladies  of  the  houses  at  which  they  stopped. 
They  all  esteemed  him,  and  were  all  anxious 
to  be  made  acquainted  with  his  wife;  but  she 
could  not  be  drawn  from  her  room,  from  the 
time  she  entered  a  house  until  she  rose  to  leave 
it.  All  her  meals  were  taken  in  her  room;  and 
George  was  rebuked  by  her  because  he  would 
not  follow  her  example.  It  was  in  vain  that  he 
reasoned  with  her  upon  the  impropriety  of  chang 
ing  his  deportment  to  his  old  acquaintances  im 
mediately  after  his  marriage.  He  stated  to  her 
that  the  change  would  be  attributed  to  pride; 
that  he  should  lose  a  number  of  humble  but 
valuable  acquaintances,  which,  to  a  professional 
gentleman,  is  no  small  loss.  But  "she  could 
not  understand  that  a  gentleman  is  at  liberty  to 
neglect  his  wife  for  'humble  but  valuable 
yL  acquaintances?" 

When  they  reached  Lagrange  they  received  as 
warm  a  welcome  from  George's  parents  as  par 
ents  laboring  under  their  apprehensions  could 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE  ••  209 

give;  but  Mary  and  Martha,  having  nothing  to 
mar  their  pleasures  (for  they  had  not  been  per 
mitted  to  know  the  qualifications  which  George's 
last  letters  had  annexed  to  his  first),  received 
her  with  all  the  delight  which  the  best  hearts 
could  feel  at  welcoming  to  the  family,  in  the 
character  of  a  sister,  the  beautiful,  amiable,  ac 
complished,  intelligent,  wealthy  Miss  Smith.  In 
anticipation  of  her  coming,  the  girls  had  brushed 
up  their  history,  philosophy,  geography,  as 
tronomy,  and  botany  for  her  especial  entertain 
ment,  or,  rather,  that  they  might  appear  a  little  at 
home  when  their  new  sister  should  invite  them 
to  a  ramble  over  the  fields  of  science.  The  labor 
answered  not  its  purpose,  however ;  Evelina  would 
neither  invite  nor  be  invited  to  any  such  rambles. 
The  news  of  George's  arrival  at  Lagrange  with 
his  wife  brought  many  of  his  rustic  acquaintances 
to  visit  him.  To  many  of  them  George  was  as 
a  son  or  a  brother,  for  he  had  been  acquainted 
with  them  from  his  earliest  years,  and  he  had  a 
thousand  times  visited  their  habitations  with  the 
freedom  with  which  he  entered  his  father's. 
They  met  him,  therefore,  with  unrestrained  fa 
miliarity,  and  treated  his  wife  as  a  part  of  him 
self.  George  had  endeavored  to  prepare  her  for 
the  plain,  blunt,  but  honest  familiarities  of  his 

14 


210         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

early  friends.  He  had  assured  her  that,  how 
ever  rude  they  might  seem,  they  were  perfectly 
innocent — nay,  they  were  tokens  of  guileless 
friendship;  for  the  natural  disposition  of  plain 
unlettered  farmers  was  to  keep  aloof  from  "the 
quality,"  as  they  called  the  people  of  the  town, 
and  that  by  as  much  as  they  overcame  this  dis 
position,  by  so  much  did  they  mean  to  be  under 
stood  as  evincing  favor;  but  Evelina  profited 
but  little  by  his  lessons. 

The  first  visitor  was  old  Mr.  Dawson,  who  had 
dandled  George  on  his  knee  a  thousand  times, 
and  who,  next  to  his  father,  was  the  sincerest 
male  friend  that  George  had  living. 

11  Well,  Georgy, "  said  the  old  man,  "  and  you've 
got  married?" 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Sammy,  and  here's  my  wife.  What 
do  you  think  of  her?" 

"Why,  she's  a  mighty  pretty  creater;  but 
you'd  better  took  my  Nance.  She'd  'ave  made 
you  another  sort  of  wife  to  this  pretty  little  soft 
creater." 

"  I  don't  know,  sir, "  said  Evelina,  a  little  fiery, 
"how  you  can  tell  what  sort  of  a  wife  a  person 
will  make  whom  you  never  saw.  And  I  presume 
Mr.  Baldwin  is  old  enough  to  choose  for  himself. " 

"Ah,  well,  now  I  know  he'd  better   'ave  took 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  211 

my  Nance,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  dry  smile. 
"Georgy,  my  son,  I'm  afraid  you've  got  yourself 
into  bad  business;  but  I  wish  you  much  happi 
ness,  my  boy.  Come,  Neighbor  Baldwin,  let's 
go  take  a  look  at  your  farm. " 

"Oh  no,"  said  old  Mr.  Baldwin,  "we  will  not 
go  till  I  make  my  daughter  better  acquainted 
with  you.  She  is  unused  to  our  country  man 
ners,  and  therefore  does  not  understand  them. 
Evelina,  my  dear,  Mr.  Dawson  is  one  of  our  best 
and  kindest  neighbors,  and  you  and  he  must  not 
break  upon  your  first  acquaintance.  He  was 
only  joking  George  in  what  he  said,  and  had  no 
idea  that  you  would  take  it  seriously." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Evelina,  "if  Mr.  Dawson  will 
say  that  he  did  not  intend  to  wound  my  feelings, 
I'm  willing  to  forgive  him. " 

"  Oh,  God  love  your  pretty  little  soul  of  you, " 
said  the~old  man,  "I  didn't  even  know  you  had 
any  feelings;  but  as  to  the  forgiving  part,  why, 
that's  neither  here  nor  there!"  Here  Evelina 
rose  indignantly  and  left  the  room. 

"Well,  Georgy,  my  son,"  continued  the  old 
man,  "I'm  sorry  your  wife's  so  touchy;  but  you 
mustn't  forget  old  Daddy  Dawson.  Come,  my 
boy,  to  our  house,  like  you  used  to,  when  you 
and  Sammy  and  Nancy  used  to  sit  round  the 


212 


STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 


bowl  of  buttermilk  under  the  big  oak  that  cov 
ered  Mammy  Dawson's  dairy.  I  always  think  of 
poor  Sammy  when  I  see  you"  (brushing  a  tear 
from  his  eye  with  the  back  of  his  hand).  "I'm 
obliged  to  love  you,  you  young  dog;  and  I  want 
to  love  your  wife  too,  if  she'd  let  me;  but,  be 
that  as  it  may,  Sammy's  playmate  won't  forget 
Daddy  Dawson — will  he,  George?" 

George  could  only  say  "Never!"  with  a  filling 
eye,  and  the  old  men  set  out  for  the  fields. 

Most  of  the  neighbors  who  came  to  greet 
George  upon  his  return  to  Lagrange  shared  Mr. 
Dawson's  fate.  One  wanted  to  span  Evelina's 
waist,  for  he  declared  "  she  was  the  littlest  Greater 
round  the  waist  he  ever  seed.1'  Another  would 
"buss  her  because  she  was  George's  wife,  and 
because  it  was  the  first  chance  he  ever  had  in  all 
his  life  to  buss  (kiss)  'the  quality.'  "  A  third 
proposed  a  swap  of  wives  with  George,  and  all 
made  some  remark  too  blunt  for  Evelina's  re 
fined  ear.  Having  no  tact  for  turning  off  these 
things  playfully,  and  as  little  disposition  to  do 
so,  she  repelled  them  with  a  town  dignity  which 
soon  relieved  her  of  these  intrusions,  and  in  less 
than  a  week  stopped  the  visits  of  George's  first 
and  warmest  friends  to  his  father's  house. 

Her   habits,    views,    and    feelings   agreeing   in 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  213 

nothing  with  the  family  in  which  she  was  placed, 
Evelina  was  unhappy  herself,  and  made  all 
around  her  unhappy.  Her  irregular  hours  of 
retiring  and  rising,  her  dilatoriness  in  attending 
her  meals,  her  continual  complaints  of  indisposi 
tion,  deranged  all  the  regulations  of  the  family, 
and  begot  such  confusion  in  the  household  that 
even  the  elder  Mrs.  Baldwin  occasionally  lost  her 
equanimity;  so  that  when  Evelina  announced,  a 
week  before  the  appointed  time,  that  she  must 
return  home,  the  intelligence  was  received  with 
pleasure  rather  than  pain. 

Upon  their  return  home,  George  and  his  lady 
found  a  commodious  dwelling  handsomely  fur 
nished  for  their  reception.  Mr.  Smith  presented 
him  this  in  lieu  of  the  check  of  which  he  had 
spoken  before  the  marriage  of  his  daughter;  and 
though  the  gift  did  not  redeem  the  promise  by 
$14,000,  George  was  perfectly  satisfied.  Mrs. 
Smith  added  to  the  donation  her  own  cook  and 
carriage-driver.  Flora,  the  maid,  had  been  con 
sidered  Evelina's  from  her  infancy.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  agreeable  to  George  than 
the  news  that  greeted  him  on  his  arrival,  that  he 
was  at  liberty  to  name  the  day  when  he  would 
conduct  Evelina  to  his  own  house;  for  his  last 
hope  of  happiness  hung  upon  this  last  change  of 


2i4         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

life.  He  allowed  himself  but  two  days  after  his 
return  to  lay  in  his  store  of  provisions;  and  on 
the  third,  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  he  led  his 
wife  to  their  mutual  home. 

"To  this  moment,  my  dear  Evelina,"  said 
George,  as  they  seated  themselves  in  their  own 
habitation — "to  this  moment  have  I  looked  for 
ward  for  many  months  with  the  liveliest  interest. 
I  have  often  figured  to  myself  the  happy  hours 
that  we  should  enjoy  under  the  common  roof,  and 
I  hope  the  hour  has  arrived  when  we  will  unite 
our  endeavors  to  realize  my  fond  anticipations. 
Let  us,  then,  upon  the  commencement  of  a  new 
life,  interchange  our  pledges  that  we  will  each 
exert  ourselves  to  promote  the  happiness  of  the 
other.  In  many  respects,  it  must  be  acknowl 
edged  that  our  views  and  dispositions  are  differ 
ent  ;  but  they  will  soon  be  assimilated  by  identity 
of  interest,  community  of  toil,  and  a  frank  and 
affectionate  interchange  of  opinions,  if  we  will 
but  consent  to  submit  to  some  little  sacrifices  in 
the  beginning  to  attain  this  object.  Now  tell 
me,  candidly  and  fearlessly,  my  Evelina,  what 
would  you  have  me  be,  and  what  would  you  have 
me  do,  to  answer  your  largest  wishes  from  your 
husband?" 

"I   would  have   you,"    said   Evelina,    "think 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  215 

more  of  me  than  all  the  world  beside;  I  would 
have  you  the  first  lawyer  in  the  State;  I  would 
have  you  overcome  your  dislike  to  such  inno 
cent  amusements  as  tea-parties  and  balls;  and 
I  would  have  you  take  me  to  the  Springs,  or  to 
New  York  or  Philadelphia,  every  summer.  Now 
what  would  you  have  me  do?" 

"I  would  have  you  rise  when  I  do;  regulate 
your  servants  with  system;  see  that  they  per 
form  their  duties  in  the  proper  way  and  the 
proper  time;  let  all  provisions  go  through  your 
hands;  and  devote  your  spare  time  to  reading 
valuable  works,  painting,  music,  or  any  other 
improving  employment  or  innocent  recreation. 
Be  thus,  and  I  '  will  think  more  of  you  than  all 
the  world  beside';  'I  will  be  the  first  lawyer  in 
the  State';  and  after  a  few  years,  'you  shall  visit 
the  North  or  the  Springs  every  summer,'  if  you 
desire  it." 

"Lord,  if  I  do  all  these  things  you  mention 
I  shall  have  no  time  for  reading,  music,  or  paint 
ing!" 

"  Yes  you  will.     My  mother — " 

"Oh,  for  the  Lord's  sake,  Mr.  Baldwin,  hush 
talking  about  your  mother!  I'm  sick  and  tired 
of  hearing  you  talk  of  'my  mother'  this,  and 
'my  mother '  that ;  and  when  I  went  to  your  house 


216         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

I  didn't  see  that  she  got  along  a  bit  better  than 
my  mother,  except  in  her  cooking;  and  that  was 
only  because  your  mother  cooked  the  meats  and 
your  sisters  made  the  pastry.  I  don't  see  the  use 
of  having  servants  if  one  must  do  everything 
herself." 

"My  sisters  make  the  pastry,  to  be  sure;  be 
cause  mother  desires  that  they  should  learn  how 
to  do  these  things,  that  they  may  better  super 
intend  the  doing  of  them  when  they  get  mar 
ried,  and  because  she  thinks  such  things  should 
not  pass  through  the  hands  of  servants  when  it 
can  be  avoided;  but  my  mother  never  cooks." 

"  She  does,  for  I  saw  her  lifting  off  a  pot  my 
self." 

"  She  does  not—  " 

Here  the  entry  of  the  cook  stopped  a  contro 
versy  that  was  becoming  rather  warm  for  the  first 
evening  at  home. 

"I  want  the  keys,  Miss  'V'lina,  to  get  out 
supper, "  said  the  cook. 

"There  they  are,  Aunt*  Clary,"  said  Evelina; 
"try  and  have  everything  very  nice." 

*  "Aunt"  and  "maurna,"  or  "maum,"  its  abbreviation,  are 
terms  of  respect  commonly  used  by  children  to  aged  negroes. 
The  first  generally  prevails  in  the  up-country,  and  the 
second  on  the  seaboard. 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE  "  217 

"  My  dear,  I  wouldn't  send  her  to  the  provisions 
unattended;  everything  depends  upon  your  com 
mencing  right — " 

"Hush!"  said  Evelina,  with  some  agitation; 
" I  wouldn't  have  her  hear  you  for  the  world. 
She'd  be  very  angry  if  she  thought  we  suspected 
her  honesty.  Ma  always  gave  her  up  the  keys, 
and  she  says  she  never  detected  her  in  a  theft 
in  all  her  life. " 

"Very  well,"  said  George,  "we'll  see." 

After  a  long  waiting,  the  first  supper  made  its 
appearance.  It  consisted  of  smoked  tea,  half- 
baked  biscuit,  butter,  and  sliced  venison. 

"Why,"  said  Evelina,  as  she  sipped  her  first 
cup  of  tea,  "this  tea  seems  to  me  to  be  smoked. 
Here,  Flora,  throw  it  out  and  make  some  more. 
Oh,  me!  the  biscuit  ain't  done.  Aunt  Clary's 
made  quite  an  unfortunate  beginning.  But  I 
didn't  want  any  supper — do  you?" 

"I  can  do  without  it,"  said  George,  coldly, 
"if  you  can." 

"  Well,  let's  not  eat  any,  and  that  will  be  the 
very  way  to  mortify  Aunt  Clary  without  making 
her  mad.  To-morrow  I'll  laugh  at  her  for  cheat 
ing  us  of  our  supper,  and  she  won't  do  so  any 
more.  The  old  creature  has  very  tender  feelings. " 
I'll  starve  for  a  week  to  save  Clary's  feelings, " 


218         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

said  George,  "if  you  will  only  quit  aunting  her. 
How  can  you  expect  her  to  treat  you  or 
your  orders  with  respect  when  you  treat  her  as 
your  superior?" 

"Well,  really,  I  can't  see  any  great  harm  in 
treating  aged  people  with  respect,  even  if  their 
skins  are  black." 

"I  wish  you  had  thought  of  that  when  you 
were  talking  to  old  Mr.  Dawson.  I  should  think 
he  was  entitled  to  as  much  respect  as  an  infernal 
black  wench!" 

This  was  the  harshest  expression  that  had  ever 
escaped  George's  lips.  Evelina  could  not  stand 
it.  She  left  the  room,  threw  herself  on  a  bed, 
and  burst  into  tears. 

In  the  course  of  the  night  the  matter  was  ad 
justed. 

The  next  morning  George  rose  with  the  sun, 
and  he  tried  to  prevail  upon  his  wife  to  do  the 
same;  but  "she  could  not  see  what  was  the  use 
of  her  getting  up  so  soon,  just  to  set  about  doing 
nothing;"  and,  to  silence  all  further  importunities 
then  and  after  upon  that  score,  she  told  him  flatly 
she  never  would  consent  to  rise  at  that  hour. 

At  half  after  eight  she  made  her  appearance, 
and  breakfast  came  in.  It  consisted  of  muddy 
coffee,  hard-boiled  eggs,  and  hard-burnt  biscuit. 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  219 

"Why,  what  has  got  into  Aunt  Clary,"  said 
Evelina,  "  that  she  cooks  so  badly?" 

"  Why,  we  mortified  her  so  much,  my  dear,  by 
eating  no  supper,"  said  George,  "that  we  have 
driven  her  to  the  opposite  extreme.  Let  us  now 
throw  the  breakfast  upon  her  hands,  except  the 
coffee,  and  perhaps  she'll  be  mortified  back  to  a 
medium." 

"That's  very  witty,  indeed,"  said  Evelina; 
"you  must  have  learned  it  from  the  amiable  and 
accomplished  Miss  Nancy  Dawson. " 

This  was  an  allusion  which  George  could  not 
withstand,  and  he  reddened  to  scarlet. 

"Evelina,"  said  he,  "you  are  certainly  the 
strangest  being  that  I  ever  met  with;  you  are 
more  respectful  to  negroes  than  to  whites,  and 
to  everybody  else  than  to  your  husband." 

"Because,"  returned  she.  "negroes  treat  me 
with  more  respect  than  some  whites;  and  every 
body  else  with  more  respect  than  my  husband. " 

George  was  reluctant  to  commence  tightening 
the  reins  of  discipline  with  his  servants  for  the 
first  few  weeks  of  his  mastership;  and  therefore 
he  bore  in  silence,  but  in  anger,  their  idleness, 
their  insolence,  and  their  disgusting  familiarities 
with  his  wife.  He  often  visited  the  kitchen,  unob 
served,  of  nights,  and  almost  always  found  it 


220         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

thronged  with  gay  company,  revelling  in  all  the 
daintiest  of  his  closet,  smoke-house,  sideboard, 
and  pantry.  He  communicated  his  discoveries 
to  his  wife,  but  she  found  no  difficulty  in  account 
ing  satisfactorily  for  all  that  he  had  seen. 
"Clary's  husband  had  always  supplied  her  with 
everything  she  wanted.  Flora  had  a  hundred 
ways  of  getting  money;  and  Billy  (the  carriage- 
driver)  was  always  receiving  little  presents  from 
her  and  others." 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks  Aunt  Clary  an 
nounced  that  the  barrel  of  flour  was  out. 

"Now,"  said  George,  "I  hope  you  are  satisfied 
that  it  is  upon  your  flour,  and  not  upon  her 
husband's,  that  Aunt  Clary  gives  her  entertain 
ments." 

"Why,  law  me!"  said  Evelina,  "I  think  it  has 
lasted  wonderfully.  You  recollect  ma  and  pa 
have  been  here  'most  every  day. " 

"Had  they  boarded  with  us,"  said  George,  "we 
could  not  have  consumed  a  barrel  of  flour  in  three 
weeks. " 

In  quick  succession  came  the  news  that  the  tea, 
coffee,  and  sugar  were  out;  all  of  which  Evelina 
thought  "had  lasted  wonderfully." 

It  would  be  useless  to  recount  the  daily  differ 
ences  of  George  and  his  wife.  In  nothing  could 


'A  CHARMING  WIFE" 


221 


they  agree;  and  the  consequence  was  that  at  the 
end  of  six  weeks  they  had  come  to  downright 
quarrelling,  through  all  which  Evelina  sought 
and  received  the  sympathy  of  Miss  Flora  and  Aunt 
Clary. 

About  this  time  the  Superior  Court  commenced 
its  session  in  the  city ;  and  a  hundred  like  favors, 
received  from  the  judge  and  the  bar,  imposed 
upon  George  the  absolute  necessity  of  giving  a 
dinner  to  his  brethren.  He  used  every  precau 
tion  to  pass  it  off  well.  He  gave  his  wife  four 
days'  notice;  he  provided  everything  himself,  of 
the  best  that  the  town  could  afford;  he  became 
all  courtesy  and  affection  to  his  wife,  and  all 
respect  and  cheerfulness  to  Aunt  Clary,  in  the 
interim.  He  promised  all  the  servants  a  hand 
some  present  each  if  they  would  acquit  them 
selves  well  upon  this  occasion,  and  charged  them 
all,  over  and  over,  to  remember  that  the  time 
between  two  and  half-past  three  was  all  that  the 
bar  could  allow  to  his  entertainment;  and,  con 
sequently,  dinner  must  be  upon  the  table  pre 
cisely  at  two. 

The  day  came  and  the  company  assembled. 
Evelina,  attired  like  a  queen,  received  them  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  all  were  delighted  with 
her.  All  were  cheerful,  talkative,  and  happy. 


222         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Two  o'clock  came,  and  no  dinner;  a  quarter  after, 
and  no  dinner.  The  conversation  began  to  flag 
a  little.  Half-past  two  rolled  round,  and  no 
dinner.  *  Conversation  sank  to  temperate,  and 
George  rose  to  intemperate.  Three-quarters  past 
two  came,  but  no  dinner.  Conversation  sank 
to  freezing,  and  George  rose  to  fever  heat. 

At  this  interesting  moment,  while  he  was 
sauntering  every  way,  George  sauntered  near  his 
wife,  who  was  deeply  engaged  in  a  conversation 
with  his  brother  Paine,  a  grave,  intelligent  young 
man,  and  he  detected  her  in  the  act  of  repeating, 
verbatim  et  literatim,  the  pretty  sentences  which 
first  subdued  his  heart. 

"Good  Lord!"  muttered  George  to  himself; 
"Jenkinson,  in  the  Vicar  of  Wake  field,  with  his 
one  sentence  of  learning  revived!" 

He  rushed  out  of  the  room  in  order  to  inquire 
what  delayed  dinner;  and  on  leaving  the  dining- 
room  was  met  at  the  door  by  Flora  with  two 
pale-blue,  dry,  boiled  fowls,  boiled  almost  to  dis 
memberment,  upon  a  dish  large  enough  to  con 
tain  a  goodly-sized  shote,  their  legs  sticking 
straight  out,  with  a  most  undignified  straddle, 
and  bowing  with  a  bewitching  grace  and  elasticity 
to  George  with  every  step  that  Flora  made. 

Behind  her  followed  Billy,  with  a  prodigious 


«A  CHARMING  WIFE"  223 

roast  turkey,  upon  a  dish  that  was  almost  con 
cealed  by  its  contents,  his  legs  extended  like  the 
fowls,  the  back  and  sides  burned  to  a  crisp, and 
the  breast  raw.  The  old  gentleman  was  hand 
somely  adorned  with  a  large  black  twine  neck 
lace;  and  through  a  spacious  window  that,  by 
chance  or  design,  the  cook  had  left  open  the 
light  poured  into  his  vacant  cavity  gloriously. 

George  stood  petrified  at  the  sight;  nor  did  he 
wake  from  his  stupor  of  amazement  until  he  was 
roused  by  a  burned  round  of  beef  and  a  raw  leg 
of  mutton  making  by  him  for  the  same  port  in 
which  the  fowls  and  turkey  had  been  moored. 

He  rushed  into  the  kitchen  in  a  fury.  ''You 
infernal  heifer!"  said  he  to  Aunt  Clary;  "what 
kind  of  cooking  is  this  you're  setting  before  my 
company?" 

"Eh— eh!  Name  'o  God,  Mas'  George;  how 
anybody  gwine  cook  t'ing  good  when  you  hurry 
'em  so?" 

George  looked  for  something  to  throw  at  her 
head,  but  fortunately  found  nothing. 

He  returned  to  the  house,  and  found  his  wife 
entertaining  the  company  with  a  never-ending 
sonata  on  the  piano. 

Dinner  was  at  length  announced,  and  an  awful 
sight  it  was  when  full  spread.  George  made  as 


224         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

good  apologies  as  he  could,  but  his  wife  was  not 
in  the  least  disconcerted;  indeed,  she  seemed  to 
assume  an  air  of  self-complaisance  at  the  pro 
fusion  and  richness  which  crowned  her  board. 

The  gentlemen  ate  but  little,  owing,  as  they 
said,  to  their  having  all  eaten  a  very  hearty 
breakfast  that  morning.  George  followed  his 
guests  to  the  Court-house,  craved  a  continuance 
of  his  cases  for  the  evening  on  the  ground  of  in 
disposition,  and  it  was  granted,  with  an  unac 
countable  display  of  sympathy.  He  returned 
home  and  embarked  in  a  quarrel  with  his  wife, 
which  lasted  until  Evelina's  exhausted  nature 
sank  to  sleep  under  it,  at  three  the  next  morning. 

George's  whole  character  now  became  com 
pletely  revolutionized.  Universal  gloom  over 
spread  his  countenance.  He  lost  his  spirits,  his 
energy,  his  life,  his  temper,  his  everything  en 
nobling;  and  he  had  just  begun  to  surrender 
himself  to  the  bottle,  when  an  accident  occurred 
which  revived  his  hopes  of  happiness  with  his 
wife,  and  determined  him  to  make  one  more  effort 
to  bring  her  into  his  views. 

Mr.  Smith,  by  an  unfortunate  investment  in 
cotton,  failed;  and,  after  a  bungling  attempt  to 
secrete  a  few  thousand  dollars  from  his  creditors 
(for  he  knew  George  too  well  toclaim  his  assist- 


"A  CHARMING  WIFE"  225 

ance  in  such  a  matter),  he  was  left  without  a  dol 
lar  that  he  could  call  his  own.  Evelina  and  her 
parents  all  seemed  as  if  they  would  go  crazy  under 
the  misfortune;  and  George  now  assumed  the 
most  affectionate  deportment  to  his  wife  and 
the  most  soothing  demeanor  to  her  parents.  The 
parents  were  completely  won  to  him;  and  his 
wife,  for  once,  seemed  to  feel  towards  him  as  she 
should.  George  availed  himself  of  this  moment 
to  make  another  and  the  last  attempt  to  reform 
her  habits  and  sentiments. 

"My  dear  Evelina,"  said  he,  "we  have  nothing 
now  to  look  to  but  our  own  exertions  for  a  support. 
This,  and  indeed  affluence,  lies  within  our  reach 
if  we  will  but  seek  them  in  a  proper  way.  You 
have  only  to  use  industry  and  care  within-doors, 
and  I  without,  to  place  us,  in  a  very  few  years, 
above  the  frowns  of  fortune.  We  have  only 
to  consult  each  other's  happiness  to  make  each 
other  happy.  Come,  then,  my  love,  forgetting 
our  disgraceful  bickerings,  let  us  now  commence  a 
new  life.  Believe  me,  there  is  no  being  on  this 
earth  that  my  heart  can  love  as  it  can  you,  if  you 
will  but  claim  its  affections;  and  you  know  how 
to  command  them."  Thus,  at  much  greater 
length,  and  with  much  more  tenderness,  did 
George  address  her.  His  appeal  had,  for  a  season, 

15 


226         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

its  desired  effect.  Evelina  rose  with  him,  retired 
with  him,  read  with  him.  She  took  charge  of  the 
keys,  dealt  out  the  stores  with  her  own  hand, 
visited  the  kitchen;  in  short,  she  became  every 
thing  George  could  wish  or  expect  from  one  of  her 
inexperience.  Things  immediately  wore  a  new 
aspect.  George  became  himself  again.  He  recom 
menced  his  studies  with  redoubled  assiduity. 
The  community  saw  and  delighted  in  the  change, 
and  the  bar  began  to  tremble  at  his  giant  strides 
in  his  profession.  But,  alas !  his  bliss  was  doomed 
to  a  short  duration.  Though  Evelina  saw,  and 
felt,  and  acknowledged  the  advantages  and  bless 
ings  of  her  new  course  of  conduct,  she  had  to  pre 
serve  it  by  a  struggle  against  nature ;  and,  at  the 
end  of  three  months,  nature  triumphed  over  resolu 
tion,  and  she  relapsed  into  her  old  habits.  George 
now  surrendered  himself  to  drink  and  to  despair, 
and  died  the  drunkard's  death.  At  another  time 
I  may  perhaps  give  the  melancholy  account  of 
his  ruin  in  detail,  tracing  its  consequences  down 
to  the  moment  at  which  I  am  now  writing. 
Should  this  time  never  arrive,  let  the  fate  of  my 
poor  nephew  be  a  warning  to  mothers  against 
bringing  up  their  daughters  to  be  "charming 
creatures." 


IX. 
THE  BALL. 

Being  on  a  visit  to  the  city  of about  ten 

years  ago,  my  old  friend  Jack  De  Bathle  gave  me 
an  invitation  to  a  ball,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the 
managers.  Jack  had  been  the  companion  of  my 
childhood,  my  boyhood,  and  my  early  manhood; 
and  through  many  a  merry  dance  had  we  hopped, 
and  laughed,  and  tumbled  down  together  in  the 
morning  of  life.  Dancing  was  really,  in  those 
days,  a  merry-making  business.  Except  the  min 
uet,  which  was  introduced  only  to  teach  us  the 
graces,  and  the  congo,  which  was  only  to  chase 
away  the  solemnities  of  the  minuet,  it  was  all  a 
jovial,  heart-stirring,  foot-stirring  amusement. 
We  had  none  of  your  mathematical  cotillions; 
none  of  your  immodest  waltzes;  none  of  your 
detestable,  disgusting  gallopades.  The  waltz 
would  have  crimsoned  the  cheek  of  every  young 
lady  who  attended  a  ball  in  my  day ;  and  had  the 
gallopade  been  commenced  in  the  ballroom,  it 
would  have  been  ended  in  the  street.  I  am  happy 
to  say  that  the  waltz  has  met  with  but  very  little 
encouragement  in  Georgia  as  yet;  the  gallopade 

(227) 


228         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

with  none.  Ye  fair  of  my  native  land !  ye  daugh 
ters  of  a  modest  race !  blush  them  away  from  the 
soil,  which  your  mothers  honored  by  their  exam 
ple  and  consecrated  with  their  ashes!  Born  to 
woman's  loftiest  destinies,  it  ill  becomes  you  to 
stoop  from  your  high  estate  to  ape  the  indecencies 
of  Europe's  slaves.  It  is  yours  to  command, 
not  to  obey.  Let  vice  approach  you  in  what 
form  she  may — as  the  handmaid  of  wit  and  talents, 
the  mistress  of  courts,  or  the  queen  of  fashion — 
fail  not  to  meet  her  with  the  frown  of  indignant 
virtue  and  the  flush  of  offended  modesty.  There 
is  a  majesty  in  these  which  has  ever  commanded 
her  homage.  There  is  a  loveliness  in  these  which 
will  ever  command  the  admiration  of  the  world. 
The  interest  which  I  feel  in  the  character  of  the 
fair  daughters  of  America  is  my  apology  for  this 
sober  digression. 

Though  De  Bathle  is  but  two  months  younger 
than  I  am,  he  still  dances  occasionally;  and  to 
this  circumstance  in  part,  but  more  particularly 
to  the  circumstance  of  his  being  a  married  man, 
is  to  be  ascribed  his  appointment  of  manager — 
the  custom  now  being  to  have  one-third  or  one- 
half  the  managers  married  men.  This  would 
be  a  great  improvement  on  the  management  of 
balls  in  olden  time  could  the  married  men  only 


THE  BALL  229 

manage  to  keep  out  of  the  cardroom.  Would 
they  take  the  direction  of  the  amusement  into 
their  hands,  their  junior  colleagues  would  then 
have  an  opportunity  of  sharing  the  pleasures  of 
the  evening,  a  privilege  which  they  seldom  enjoy 
as  things  are  now  conducted.  However,  married 
men  are  not  appointed  with  the  expectation  that 
they  will  perform  the  duties  of  the  office,  but  to 
quiet  the  scruples  of  some  half-dozen  or  more 
"charming  creatures,1'  who,  though  they  never 
fail  to  attend  a  ball,  will  not  condescend  to  do  so 
until  they  are  perfectly  satisfied  it  is  to  be  con 
ducted  with  the  utmost  gravity,  dignity,  decorum, 
and  propriety.  For  these  assurances  they  look 
first  to  ''the  face  of  the  paper"  (the  ball-ticket); 
and  if  they  do  not  find  on  it  a  goodly  number  of 
responsible  names  (such  as,  by  reasonable  pre 
sumption,  are  well  broke  to  petticoat  government), 
they  protest  against  it,  tell  a  hundred  amiable 
little  fibs  to  conceal  the  cause  of  their  opposition, 
torture  two  or  three  beaux  half  to  death  with 
suspense,  and  finally  conclude  to  go  "just  to  keep 
from  giving  offence."  But  if  the  endorsers  be 
"potent,  grave,  and  reverend  seigniors,"  schooled 
as  aforesaid,  why,  then,  one  difficulty  is  at  least 
removed;  for  though  it  is  well  known  that  these 
are  "endorsers  without  recourse  in  the  first 


23o         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

instance,"  it  is  equally  well  known  that  they  may 
be  ultimately  made  liable ;  for  if  the  juniors  fail  to 
fulfil  their  engagements  a  lady  has  nothing  to  do 
but  to  walk  into  the  cardroom,  take  a  senior  by 
the  nape  of  the  neck,  lead  him  into  the  ballroom, 
present  her  ticket  with  his  name  upon  it  in  the 
presence  of  the  witnesses  there  assembled,  and 
she  is  sure  of  ample  satisfaction. 

When  De  Bathle  and  I  reached  the  ballroom, 
a  large  number  of  gentlemen  had  already  assem 
bled.  They  all  seemed  cheerful  and  happy. 
Some  walked  in  couples  up  and  down  the  ball 
room,  and  talked  with  great  volubility;  but 
not  one  of  them  understood  a  word  that  himself 
or  his  companion  said. 

"Ah,  sir,  how  do  you  know  that?" 

Because  the  speakers  showed  plainly  by  their 
looks  and  actions  that  their  thoughts  were  run 
ning  upon  their  own  personal  appearance,  and 
upon  the  figure  they  would  cut  before  the  ladies 
when  they  should  arrive,  and  not  upon  the  sub 
ject  of  the  discourse.  And,  furthermore,  their 
conversation  was  like  that  of  one  talking  in  his 
sleep;  without  order,  sense,  or  connection.  The 
hearer  always  made  the  speaker  repeat  in  sen 
tences  and  half-sentences,  often  interrupting 
him  with  "What?"  before  he  had  proceeded  three 


THE  BALL  231 

words  in  a  remark;  and  then  laughed  affectedly, 
as  though  he  saw  in  the  senseless,  unfinished 
sentence  a  most  excellent  joke.  Then  would 
come  his  reply,  which  could  not  be  forced  into 
connection  with  a  word  that  he  had  heard;  and 
in  the  course  of  which  he  was  treated  with  pre 
cisely  the  civility  which  he  had  bestowed.  And 
yet  they  kept  up  the  conversation  with  lively 
interest  as  long  as  I  listened  to  them. 

Others  employed  themselves  in  commenting 
good-humoredly  upon  each  other's  dresses  and 
figure,  while  some  took  steps — awkwardly. 

In  the  meantime,  the  three  junior  managers 
met  and  agreed  upon  the  parts  which  they  were 
to  perform.  Herein  I  thought  they  were  unfor 
tunate.  To  Mr.  Flirt,  a  bustling,  fidgety,  restless 
little  man,  about  five  feet  two  and  a  half  inches 
high,  was  assigned  the  comparatively  easy  task  of 
making  out  and  distributing  the  numbers.  Mr. 
Crouch,  a  good-humored,  sensible,  but  rather 
unpolished  gentleman,  undertook  to  attend  the 
carriages,  and  to  transport  their  precious  treasures 
to  the  ballroom,  where  Mr.  Dupree  was  to  receive 
them,  and  see  to  their  safe-keeping  until  the 
dancing  commenced.  The  parts  of  the  married 
men,  up  to  the  opening  of  the  ball,  was  settled 
by  common  law.  They  were  to  keep  a  sharp 


232         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

lookout,  lend  a  helping  hand  in  case  of  emergency, 
drink  plenty  of  wine,  see  that  other  gentlemen, 
particularly  strangers,  did  the  same,  and,  finally, 
to  give  any  gentleman  who  might  have  come  to  the 
ball  encumbered  with  a  little  loose  change  an 
opportunity  of  relieving  himself. 

Things  were  thus  arranged,  Crouch  standing 
with  a  group  of  gentlemen,  of  which  I  was  one, 
in  the  entry  leading  to  the  ballroom,  when  Mr. 
Flirt  broke  upon  us,  as  if  the  whole  town  were  on 
fire,  with  "Goodness,  Crouch!  there's  Mrs.  Mushy's 
carriage  at  the  door,  full  of  ladies,  and  not  a  mana 
ger  there  to  receive  them !  I  '11  swear  it  is  too  bad !' 

"Horrible!"  said  Crouch;  and  away  he  went. 

But  Mrs.  Mushy,  with  Miss  Feedle  and  Miss 
Deedle,  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs  unat 
tended  before  Crouch,  or  even  Flirt,  who  was 
considerable  in  advance  of  him,  met  them.  Mrs. 
Mushy,  who  was  a  lady  of  very  full  habit,  looked 
huffishly  as  Flirt  took  her  hand,  and  Miss  Feedle 
and  Miss  Deedle  blushed  sarcastically.  Flirt 
made  a  hundred  apologies,  and  Crouch  looked 
first  at  Mrs.  Mushy,  then  at  Flirt,  and  tittered. 
"What  a  lovely  figure  Mrs.  Mushy  is!"  said  he, 
as  he  turned  off  from  delivering  his  charge  to 
Dupree. 

"Oh,   Mr.  Crouch,"  said  Flirt,   "if  you  begin 


THE  BALL  233 

making  your  fun  of  the  ladies  a'ready  we'd 
better  break  up  the  ball  at  once.  By  Heaven, 
it's  a  shame!" 

"Upon  my  honor,  Mr.  Flirt,"  said  Crouch,  "I 
think  she's  beautiful.  I  always  liked  a  light  and 
airy  figure,  particularly  for  a  ballroom." 

By  this  time  Dupree  had  joined  us.  Flirt  left 
us,  obviously  in  a  pet ;  but  we  hardly  missed  him 
before  back  he  rushed  from  the  ballroom,  exclaim 
ing,  "Why,  gracious  heavens,  Dupree!  there  are 
those  three  ladies  sitting  in  the  ballroom  and  not  a 
gentleman  in  the  room  to  entertain  them!  Do  go 
and  introduce  some  of  the  gentlemen  to  them, 
if  you  please." 

"Flugens!"  said  Dupree,  "what  an  oversight!" 
and  off  he  went  for  entertainers.  After  several 
ineffectual  attempts  he  at  length  prevailed  on 
Mr.  Noozle  and  Mr.  Boozle  to  be  made  acquainted 
with  the  ladies. 

Mr.  N.  seated  himself  to  the  right  of  Miss  F., 
and  Mr.  B.  to  the  left  of  Miss  D. ;  Mrs.  M.  occupy 
ing  a  seat  between  the  girls,  and  looking,  for  all 
the  world,  as  if  she  thought,  "Well,  this  is  the  last 
ball  I'll  ever  attend,  unless  it's  a  little  better 
managed!"  But  the  young  ladies  looked  like 
a  May  morning  as  soon  as  the  gentlemen 
approached. 


234         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

After  a  pause  of  two  minutes: 

"It's  a  very  pleasant  evening/'  said  Mr.  Noozle 
to  Miss  Feedle. 

"Delightful,"  said  Miss  Feedle  to  Mr.  Noozle. 

"It's  a  delightful  evening,"  said  Miss  Deedle 
to  Mr.  Boozle. 

"Very  pleasant,"  said  Mr.  Boozle  to  Miss 
Deedle. 

"I  thought  there  were  some  married  managers 
of  the  ball,"  said  Mrs.  Mushy,  emphatically. 
Here  ensued  a  long  pause. 

"Are  you  fond  of  dancing?"  said  Mr.  Noozle. 

"Ah!  what's  that  you  say,  Noozle,"  said 
Boozle — "you  are  not  fond  of  dancing?  Come, 
come,  that'll  never  do.  You  tip  the  pigeon-wing 
too  well  for  that." 

"You  quite  misapprehend  me,  sir,"  returned 
Mr.  Noozle.  "Mine  was  not  a  declaration  touch 
ing  in  the  remotest  degree  my  personal  predilec 
tions  or  antipathies,  but  a  simple  interrogatory  to 
Miss  Feedle.  No,  sir;  though  I  cannot  lay  claim 
to  the  proficiency  of  Noverre  in  the  saltant  art, 
I  am,  nevertheless,  extravagantly  fond  of  danc 
ing;  too  much  so,  I  fear,  for  one  who  has  but  just 
commenced  the  viginti  lucubrationes  annorum,  as 
that  inimitable  and  fascinating  expositor  of  the 
elements  of  British  jurisprudence,  Sir  William 


THE  BALL  235 

Blackstone,  observes.  To  reach  these  high  attain 
ments  in  forensic — " 

Here  the  young  gentlemen  were  forced  to 
resign  their  seats  to  a  number  of  ladies  who  now 
entered  the  ballroom. 

"What  an  intelligent  young  gentleman!"  said 
Miss  Feedle.  "I  declare  I  must  set  my  cap  for 
him." 

"I  think  the  other  much  the  most  interesting 
of  the  two,"  said  Miss  Deedle.  "He's  too  affected, 
and  too  fond  of  showing  off  his  learning.  What 
did  he  call  that  'inimitable  expositor'?  Jinny 
Crashionis" 

The  seats  were  soon  filled  with  ladies;  almost 
all  of  whom  (except  Mrs.  Mushy)  entered  the 
room  in  the  same  style,  which  seemed  to  have 
been  strictly  copied  from  the  movement  of  the 
killdee.  They  took  their  seats  with  precisely  the 
motion  with  which  the  schoolgirls  in  my  younger 
days  used  to  make  "cheeses,"  as  they  called  them, 
with  their  frocks. 

The  musicians  were  all  blacks,  but  neatly 
dressed.  The  band  consisted  of  three  performers 
on  the  violin,  one  on  the  clarinet,  one  on  the  tam 
bourine,  and  one  on  the  triangle. 

The  ladies  ceased  coming,  and  nothing  seemed 
now  wanting  to  begin  the  amusement  but  the 


236         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

distribution  of  the  numbers;  but  Mr.  Flirt  was 
running  up  and  down  stairs  every  minute  after 
— no  one  knew  what;  and  with  great  anxiety — 
no  one  knew  why.  He  would  enter  the  room, 
look  the  ladies  all  over,  then  down  he  would  go; 
then  return  and  go  through  the  same  evolutions. 
The  band  struck  up  a  spirit-stirring  tune,  in 
which  the  tambourine-player  distinguished  him 
self.  For  dignified  complacency  of  countenance, 
under  his  own  music,  he  rivalled  Mr.  Jenkins; 
and  he  performed  the  rattlesnake  note  with  his 
middle  finger  in  a  style  which  threw  Miss  Crump 
entirely  in  the  shade.  The  band  ceased,  and 
the  inquiry  became  general,  "Why  doesn't  the 
drawing  begin?"  but  Mr.  Flirt  still  kept  up  his 
anxious  movements. 

"In  the  name  of  sense,  Flirt,"  said  Crouch, 
impatiently,  as  the  little  man  was  taking  a  third 
survey  of  the  ladies,  "what  are  you  bobbing  up 
and  down  stairs  for?  Why  don't  you  distribute 
the  tickets?" 

"Oh,"  said  Flirt,  "it's  early  yet.  Let's  wait 
for  Miss  Gilt  and  Miss  Rino.  I  know  they're 
coming,  for  Mr.  Posy  and  Mr.  Tulip  told  me  they 
saw  them  dressed,  and  their  carriages  at  the  door, 
an  hour  ago." 

"Blast   Miss   Gilt   and   Miss   Rino!"   returned 


THE  BALL  237 

Crouch.  "Is  the  whole  company  to  be  kept 
waiting  for  them?  Now,  sir,  if  the  tickets  are 
not  handed  round  in  three  minutes  I'll  announce 
to  the  company  that  Mr.  Flirt  will  permit  no 
dancing  until  Miss  Gilt  and  Miss  Rino  shall  think 
proper  to  honor  us  with  their  presence." 

"Oh,  zounds!"  said  Flirt,  "I'm  not  waiting  for 
them.  I  thought  it  was  too  early  to  begin  the 
drawing.  It's  quite  unfashionable  in  New  York 
to  commence  drawing  before  nine  o'clock." 
(Miss  R.'s  father  was  computed  at  a  cool  hundred 
and  fifty,  and  Miss  G.'s  at  a  round  hundred 
thousand.) 

In  a  few  minutes  the  tickets  were  distributed, 
"and  Mr.  Flirt  proceeded  to  call,  "No.  i — First 
Cotillion,"  with  most  imposing  majesty.  Then 
numbers  2,  3,  and  4  of  the  same;  then  No.  i  of 
the  second,  and  so  on. 

Five  sets  of  cotillions  could  occupy  the  floor  at 
a  time,  and  Flirt  had  just  called  No.  2  of  the  fifth, 
when  Miss  Rino  entered  the  room,  and  immedi 
ately  afterwards  Miss  Gilt.  Flirt  had  put  two 
supernumerary  tickets  in  the  hat,  in  anticipation 
of  their  coming;  and,  forgetting  everything  else, 
he  suspended  the  calling,  and  rushed  to  deliver 
them  as  soon  as  the  ladies  made  their  appearance. 

He  went  to  Miss  Rino  first — as  she  entered  first 


238         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL   . 

— but  she  was  obviously  piqued  at  seeing  the  sets 
on  the  floor  before  her  arrival.  She  refused  to 
take  a  number,  declaring  (very  sweetly)  that  she 
left  home  with  no  idea  of  dancing.  Flirt  insisted, 
earnestly  and  prettily,  upon  her  taking  a  number ; 
but  she  hesitated,  looked  in  the  hat,  then  looked  at 
Flirt  bewitchingly,  and  declared  she  did  not  wish 
to  dance. 

In  the  meantime  Miss  Gilt  began  to  feel  herself 
slighted,  and  she  said,  in  a  pretty,  audible  tone, 
that  for  her  part,  she  would  like  very  well  to  draw 
a  number  if  she  could  be  permitted  to  do  so. 
Several  gentlemen  who  had  gathered  around  her 
hastened  to  Flirt  to  remind  him  of  the  indignity 
which  he  was  offering  to  Miss  Gilt ;  but  before  they 
reached  him  Miss  Rino  drew  No.  3  of  the  fifth 
cotillion  from  the  hat. 

Unfortunately,  Crouch's  patience  had  worn  out 
just  before  Miss  R.  made  up  her  mind  to  take 
a  ticket  and  he  took  the  office  which  Flirt  had 
abdicated.  He  called  No.  3  twice,  but  the  call 
was  not  responded  to.  He  then  called  No.  4, 
when  Miss  Jones  appeared  and  took  her  place. 
He  next  called  No.  i  of  the  sixth  set,  when  a  lady 
appeared,  which  completed  the  cotillion.  The 
last  lady  had  just  taken  her  place  when  Miss  Rino, 
led  on  by  Mr.  Noozle,  advanced,  and  announced 


THE  BALL  239 

that  hers  was  No.  3  of  the  fifth  set.  Miss  Jones 
was  instinctively  retiring  from  the  august  pres 
ence  of  Miss  Rino  when  she  was  stopped  by 
Crouch  with  "Keep  your  place,  Miss  Jones;  I 
think  you  are  entitled  to  it." 

"Isn't  this  No.  3  of  the  fifth  cotillion?"  said 
Miss  Rino,  holding  out  her  ticket  to  Mr.  Crouch. 

"Yes,  miss,"  said  Crouch,  "but  I  think  it  has 
forfeited  its  place.  Indeed,  I  do  not  think  it  was 
even  drawn  when  Miss  Jones  took  her  place." 

This  drew  from  Miss  Rino  the  expression  of 
countenance  which  immediately  precedes  a 
sneeze. 

"Upon  every  principle  of  equity  and  justice," 
said  Mr.  Noozle,  "Miss  Rino  is  entitled  to — " 

"Music!"  said  Crouch. 

"Hands  round!"  said  the  fiddler;  and  the  whole 
band  struck  into  something  like  "The  Dead 
March." 

"This  matter  shall  not  end  here,"  said  Noozle, 
as  he  led  Miss  Rino  back  to  her  seat. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Noozle,"  returned  Miss  Rino,  "don't 
think  anything  of  it !  I  declare  I  had  not  the  least 
wish  in  the  world  to  dance.  Surely  you  would  not 
object  to  anything  the  polite  and  accomplished  Mr. 
Crouch  would  do!" 

Noozle  walked  the  floor  in  portentous  abstrac- 


24o         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

tion,  wiped  his  face  with  terrific  emphasis,  and 
knocked  his  hair  back  with  the  slap  belligerent. 

The  ladies  who  were  not  dancing  became 
alarmed  and  sedate  (Miss  Gilt  excepted) ;  the 
gentlemen  collected  in  groups,  and  carried  on  an 
animated  conversation.  As  all  but  myself  who 
could  give  a  correct  version  of  the  affair  were 
engaged  in  the  dance,  the  Noozle  party  had 
gained  over  to  their  side  most  of  the  company 
present  before  the  dance  ended.  After  various 
inquiries,  rumors,  and  corrections,  the  company 
generally  settled  down  upon  the  following  state 
ment,  as  confirmed  by  the  joint  testimony  of  Rino, 
Flirt,  and  Noozle: 

"Crouch  had  an  old  spite  against  Miss  Rino 
for  nothing  at  all;  began  cursing  and  abusing 
her  because  she  was  not  the  first  lady  in  the  room ; 
refused  to  wait  two  minutes  for  her  arrival;  as 
soon  as  he  saw  her  enter  the  ballroom,  usurped 
Mr.  Flirt's  appointment,  and  commenced  calling 
the  numbers  on  purpose  to  cut  her  out.  She, 
seeing  his  object,  snatched  up  a  number  and 
rushed  to  her  place;  but  it  was  occupied  by  Miss 
Jones,  who,  seeing  the  superiority  of  her  claims, 
offered  to  give  way,  and  was  actually  retiring 
when  Crouch  seized  her  by  the  arm,  jerked  her 
back,  and  said,  'Keep  your  place,  miss!  You're 


THE  BALL  241 

entitled  to  it,  if  Miss  Rino  has  got  the  number;  and 
you  shall  have  it.'  And  when  Mr.  Noozle  was 
pleading  with  him  just  to  look  at  Miss  Rino's 
ticket,  he  just  turned  upon  his  heel  and  called  for 
the  music."  This  was  all  reported  to  Crouch,  as 
confirmed  by  the  trio  before  mentioned.  He 
pronounced  it  all  an  infamous  lie,  from  beginning 
to  end,  and  was  with  difficulty  restrained  from 
going  immediately  after  Flirt,  to  pick  him  up,  as 
he  said,  and  wear  him  out  upon  Noozle. 

As  soon  as  the  first  cotillion  ended,  the  Crouch 
party  began  to  gain  ground;  but  not  without 
warm  words  between  several  gentlemen,  and  a 
general  depression  of  spirits  through  the  company. 

The  dancing  of  the  ladies  was,  with  few  excep 
tions,  much  after  the  same  fashion.  I  found  not 
the  least  difficulty  in  resolving  it  into  the  three 
motions  of  a  turkey-cock  strutting,  a  sparrow- 
hawk  lighting,  and  a  duck  walking.  Let  the 
reader  suppose  a  lady  beginning  a  strut  at  her 
own  place,  and  ending  it  (precisely  as  does  the 
turkey-cock)  three  feet  nearer  the  gentleman  op 
posite  her ;  then  giving  three  sparrow-hawk  bobs, 
and  then  waddling  back  to  her  place  like  a  duck, 
and  he  will  have  a  pretty  correct  idea  of  their 
dancing.  Not  that  the  three  movements  were 
blended  at  every  turn  of  the  dance,  but  that  one 

16 


242         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

or  more  of  the  three  answered  to  every  turn.  The 
strut  prevailed  most  in  balancing ;  the  bobs,  when 
balanced  to;  and  the  waddle,  when  going  round. 
To  all  this  Mrs.  Mushy  was  an  exception.  When 
she  danced,  every  particle  of  her  danced,  in  spite 
of  herself. 

There  was  as  little  variety  in  the  gentlemen's 
dancing  as  there  was  in  the  ladies'.  Any  one  who 
has  seen  a  gentleman  clean  mud  off  his  shoes  on  a 
door-mat  has  seen  nearly  all  of  it ;  the  principal 
difference  being,  that  some  scraped  with  a  pull 
of  the  foot,  some  with  a  push,  and  some  with  both. 

"I  suppose,"  said  I  to  a  gentleman,  "they  take 
no  steps  because  the  music  will  not  admit  of 
them?" 

"Oh  no,"  said  he;  "it's  quite  ungenteel  to 
take  steps."  I  thought  of  the  wag's  remarks 
about  Miss  Crump's  music:  "If  this  be  their 
dancing,"  thought  I,  "what  must  their  mourning 
be?" 

A  splendid  supper  was  prepared  at  twelve 
o'clock,  and  the  young  ladies  ate  almonds,  raisins, 
apples,  oranges,  jelly,  sillabub,  custard,  candy, 
sugar-plums,  kisses,  and  cake,  as  if  they  had  been 
owing  them  an  old  grudge.  But  the  married 
gentlemen  did  not  come  up  to  supper. 

"And  how  did  the  quarrel  end? " 


THE  BALL  243 

"Oh,  I  had  like  to  have  forgotten  the  denoue 
ment  of  the  quarrel!" 

A  correspondence  opened  the  next  morning 
between  the  parties,  in  which  Noozle  was  diffuse 
and  Crouch  laconic.  They  once  came  this  near 
an  amicable  adjustment  of  the  difference:  Noo 
zle 's  second  (for  the  fashion  is  for  the  principals 
to  get  into  quarrels  and  for  the  seconds  to  get  them 
out)  agreed  if  Crouch  would  strike  the  word  "it" 
out  of  one  of  his  letters,  his  friend  would  be  per 
fectly  satisfied. 

Mr.  Crouch's  second  admitted  that  the  removal 
of  the  word  would  not  change  the  sense  of  the 
letter  the  least,  but  that  Mr.  Crouch,  having  put 
his  life  and  character  in  his  hands,  he  felt  bound 
to  protect  them  with  the  most  scrupulous  fidelity ; 
he  could  not,  therefore,  consent  to  expunge  the 
objectionable  word  unless  the  challenge  were 
withdrawn.  To  show,  however,  his  reluctance  to 
the  shedding  of  blood,  and  to  acquit  his  friend,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  public,  of  all  blame,  he  would  take 
it  upon  himself  to  say  that  if  Mr.  Noozle  would 
withdraw  his  objections  to  the  "t,"  Mr.  Crouch 
should  expunge  the  "i."  This  proposition  was 
rejected;  but,  in  return,  it  was  submitted  that  if 
Mr.  Crouch  would  expunge  the  "t,"  the  "i"  might 
remain.  To  which  it  was  replied  that  the  altera- 


244         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

tion  would  convert  the  whole  sentence  into  non 
sense;  making  it  read  "i  is"  instead  of  "it  is," 
etc.  Here  the  seconds  separated,  and  soon  after 
the  principals  met;  and  Crouch  shot  Noozle,  in 
due  form  and  according  to  the  latest  fashion, 
through  the  knees.  I  went  to  see  him  after  he  had 
received  his  wound,  and,  poor  fellow,  he  suffered 
dreadful  tortures.  So  much,  said  I,  for  a  young 
lady's  lingering  from  a  ball  an  hour  too  long,  in 
order  to  make  herself  conspicuous,  and  not  en 
deavoring  to  adjust  matters  ere  they  went  too  far. 


X. 

WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL. 

Many  years  ago  there  lived  in  a  small  village  in 
the  State  of  Georgia,  a  pious  widow,  who  was  left 
with  an  only  son  and  two  daughters.  She  was  in 
easy  circumstances  and  managed  her  temporal 
concerns  with  great  prudence,  so  that  her  estate 
increased  with  her  years.  Her  son  exhibited,  at 
a  very  early  age,  great  precocity  of  genius,  and  the 
mother  lost  no  opportunity  of  letting  the  world 
know  it.  When  he  was  but  six  years  old  he  had 
committed  little  pieces  in  prose  and  poetry, 
which  he  delivered  with  remarkable  propriety  for 
his  years.  He  knew  as  much  of  the  scriptures  as 
any  child  of  that  age  probably  ever  knew,  and  he 
had  already  made  some  progress  in  geography  and 
mental  arithmetic.  With  all  this,  he  was  a  very 
handsome  boy.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that 
his  mother  should  be  bringing  him  out  in  some 
department  of  science,  upon  all  occasions;  of 
course,  she  often  brought  him  out  upon  very 
unsuitable  occasions,  and  sometimes  kept  him 

(245) 


246          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

out  greatly  to  the  annoyance  of  her  company. 
Not  to  praise  his  performances  would  have  been 
discouraging  to  Master  William  Mitten,  and  very 
mortifying  to  his  mother;  accordingly,  whether 
they  were  well-timed  or  ill-timed,  everybody 
praised  them.  The  ladies,  all  of  whom  loved  Mrs. 
Mitten,  were  not  unfrequently  thrown  into  rap 
tures  at  the  child's  exhibitions.  They  would 
snatch  him  up  in  their  arms,  kiss  him,  pronounce 
him  a  perfect  prodigy  both  in  beauty  of  person 
and  power  of  mind,  and  declare  that  they  would 
be  willing  to  go  beggars  upon  the  world  to  have 
such  a  child.  Others  would  piously  exhort  Mrs. 
Mitten  not  to  set  her  heart  too  much  upon  the 
child.  "They  never  saw  the  little  creature  with 
out  commingled  emotions  of  delight  and  alarm ;  so 
often  is  it  the  case  that  children  of  such  wonder 
ful  gifts  die  early."  Her  brother,  Capt.  David 
Thomson,  a  candid,  plain-dealing,  excellent  man, 
often  reproved  Mrs.  Mitten  for  parading,  as  he 
called  it,  "her  child  upon  all  occasions." 

"Anna,"  said  he,  "you  will  stuff  your  child  so 
full  of  pride  and  vanity  and  make  him  so  pert  and 
forward  that  there  will  be  no  living  with  him. 
From  an  object  of  admiration  he  will  soon  become 
an  object  of  detestation." 

"No  danger,  brother — no  danger,"  she  would 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    247 

reply,  "  I  take  special  care  to  guard  him  against 
these  vices. " 

At  eight  years  of  age,  William  was  placed  under 
the  instruction  of  Miss  Smith,  the  teacher  of  a 
female  school  into  which  small  boys  were  ad 
mitted  by  courtesy.  Here  he  continued  until  his 
tenth  year,  when  Miss  Smith  told  his  mother  that 
he  was  getting  too  old  to  remain  in  her  school,  and 
that  she  could  keep  him  no  longer.  Here  Miss 
Smith  whispered  something  to  Mrs.  Mitten  which 
drew  a  smile  from  her,  but  which  has  ever  remained 
a  secret  between  them.  It  took  about  the  time 
to  deliver  it  that  it  would  take  to  say:  "the  truth 
is,  he  is  too  pretty  and  too  smart  to  be  in  a  female 
school." 

William  being  now  out  of  employment,  his 
mother  took  six  months  to  deliberate  as  to  what 
was  next  to  be  done  with  him ;  and  in  the  mean 
time  she  sent  him  in  the  country  to  stay  with  his 
grandmother.  On  his  return  she  determined  to 
place  him  under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  Markham,  one 
of  the  best  of  men,  and  best  of  instructors.  Ac 
cordingly,  she  conducted  him  to  the  school-room 
of  his  second  preceptor. 

"You  will  find  him,  Mr.  Markham,"  said  Mrs. 
Mitten  as  she  delivered  over  her  son  to  the  teacher's 
charge,  "  easy  to  lead  but  hard  to  drive. " 


248         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"If  that  be  the  case,  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Mark- 
ham,  "  I  fear  that  your  son  will  not  do  well  under 
my  government. " 

"  Why,  surely,  Mr.  Markham,  you  don't  prefer 
driving  to  leading." 

"  By  no  means,  Madam — by  no  means.  I  much 
prefer  leading;  but  no  child  of  his  age  can  be 
always  led.  Withal,  a  teacher  must  govern  by 
fixed  rules,  which  cannot  be  relaxed  in  favor  of 
one  of  his  pupils  without  rendering  them  worth 
less  or  unjust  to  all  the  rest. " 

This  took  Mrs.  Mitten  a  little  by  surprise;  for 
she  supposed  that  Mr.  Markham  would  be  proud 
of  such  an  accession  to  his  school  as  William. 
She  acquiesced,  however,  in  the  soundness  of  his 
views;  but  flattering  herself  "that  he  would  never 
find  it  necessary  to  drive  William, "  she  turned  him 
over  to  the  teacher  and  withdrew. 

William  made  his  debut  at  school  in  a  dress 
which  was  rather  tawdry  for  Sunday,  and  extrav 
agant  for  the  school-room.  The  first  ten  or 
fifteen  minutes  were  spent  by  William  and  the 
school  boys  in  interchanging  looks  of  admiration, 
which  Mr.  Markham  indulged,  under  pretense  of 
not  observing.  At  length  a  pretty  general  titter 
began  to  run  through  the  school  at  William's 
expense.  Mr.  Markham  now  interposed,  with  a 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL     249 

sternness  that  instantly  brought  all  to  order  but 
William,  who  tittered  in  turn  at  divers  persons 
and  things.  But  this  Mr.  Markham  happened  not 
to  notice .  The  object  of  William's  special  regards 
and  amusement  was  John  Brown,  whose  clothes 
seemed  to  have  been  made  of  remnants  of  old 
bed-quilts,  so  numerous  and  particolored  were 
their  patches.  John's  attitude  was  as  curious  as 
his  dress  ;  he  seemed  to  have  derived  it  from 
the  neck  of  a  crane  at  rest.  His  head  was  flat 
and  bushy,  his  feet  were  large  and  black,  and  his 
face  bore  a  marked  resemblance  to  that  of  a 
leather-winged  bat.  In  all  his  life,  William  had 
never  seen  exactly  such  a  thing  as  this;  and  he 
laughed  at  it  without  stint  and  without  disguise. 
John  soon  became  indignant,  and  raising  his  book 
between  his  face  and  the  teacher,  he  set  his 
mouth  to  going  as  if  repeating  all  the  vowels 
and  consonants  of  the  alphabet  in  quick  time, 
and  shook  his  fist  at  William  with  a  quiver  of 
awful  portent.  According  to  the  masonry  of  the 
school-room,  these  signs  meant :  "  Never  mind,  old 
fellow,  as  soon  as  school's  out  Til  make  you  laugh 
t'other  side  of  the  mouth." 

"Come  here,  sir,"  said  Markham,  who  always 
saw  more  than  he  seemed  to  see.  "  Who  are  you 
shaking  your  fist  at,  sir?" 


25o         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Mr.  Markham,  that  fellow  keeps  laughing  at 
me,  sir." 

"And  didn't  you  laugh  at  him  first?" 

"  I — I — laughed  at  him  a  little  bit ;  but  he  keeps 
at  it  all  the  time.  He  don't  do  no  thin'  else  but 
keep  on  laughmg  at  me  all  the  time. " 

"  Well,  if  you  laugh  at  other  people  you  must  let 
them  laugh  at  you ;  and  now,  sir,  go  to  your  seat, 
and  if  I  catch  you  shaking  your  fist  at  anybody  in 
school  hours  again,  or  using  it  upon  anybody  after 
wards,  who  has  only  paid  laugh  with  laugh,  I'll 
shake  you." 

There  was  a  little  spice  of  equity  here  that  John 
had  entirely  overlooked;  and  he  went  to  his  seat 
much  cooler  than  might  have  been  expected. 

"  Come  here,  William ! "  continued  the  preceptor. 
William  did  not  move;  and  the  whole  school  was 
electrified  at  disobedience  to  Mr.  Markham 's 
orders. 

"Come  here,  William!"  repeated  Mr.  Markham, 
but  with  no  better  success.  Whereupon  he  rose 
and  commenced  "leading"  him,  in  quick  time,  to 
his  seat.  Having  stationed  him  by  it  he  said  to 
him:  "William,  I  know  you  have  been  indulged 
so  much  that  you  hardly  know  the  duty  of  sub 
mission  to  your  teacher's  orders,  or  I  would  correct 
you  for  not  coming  to  me  when  I  called  you.  You 


'WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    251 

must  do  as  I  tell  you ;  and  I  tell  you  now  to  quit 
laughing  and  get  your  lesson — you,  John  Brown, 
are  you  tittering  again  already  ?  Put  down  your 
feet  and  come  here,  sir!"  Here  Mr.  Markham, 
by  way  of  parenthesis,  gave  John  three  cuts, 
which  sounded  like  a  whip-poor-will,  and  made 
him  dance  a  jig,  a  minuet  and  a  polka,  all  in  less 
than  a  minute.  He  retired  crying,  and  limping, 
and  rubbing,  and  shaking  his  bushy  head  like  a 
muscovy  drake  in  a  pet,  and  Mr.  Markham  pro 
ceeded:  "I  tell  you,  William,  you  must  obey 
me"— 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  William,  pale  as  a  sheet. 

"  I  can  have  no  little  boys  with  me  who  won't 
do  as  I  tell  them"— 

"No,  sir." 

"  If  you  will  be  a  good  boy,  and  mind  your  book 
and  your  teacher,  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  me. 
Go  now  and  take  your  seat,  and  quit  laughing 
and  get  your  lesson. " 

William  obeyed  promptly,  and  hardly  took  his 
eyes  from  his  book  until  the  school  was  dismissed. 

During  the  recess  he  begged  his  mother  to  take 
him  away  from  Mr.  Markham's  school.  He  said 
Mr.  Markham  whipped  his  scholars,  and  he  "  didn't 
want  to  go  to  a  man  that  whipped  children." 

"But,"  said  his  mother,  "you  must  be  a  good 


25 2          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

boy,  and  then  he  will  not  whip  you.  I've  entered 
you  now,  and  paid  your  first  quarter's  schooling, 
and  you  must  go  to  the  end  of  the  quarter. " 

William  returned  to  school,  and  for  several 
weeks  did  remarkably  well.  He  was  put  in  a 
class  with  George  Markham,  son  of  the  preceptor,  a 
promising  youth,  but  equal  to  William  in  nothing 
but  attention  to  his  studies.  As  William  could  get 
his  lessons  in  half  the  time  allowed  him  for  this 
purpose,  he  soon  began  to  neglect  them  until  the 
last  moment  from  which  he  could  commit  them, 
and  then  to  some  time  beyond  the  moment ;  and 
here  was  the  beginning  of  his  bad  luck.  As  he 
grew  remiss,  Mr.  Markham  counseled  him,  lec 
tured  him,  and  threatened  him ;  but  all  to  no  pur 
pose.  At  length  he  told  him  that  the  next  time 
he  came  to  recite  without  knowing  his  esson,  he 
would  correct  him.  This  alarmed  William  a  good 
deal;  but  not  quite  enough  to  stimulate  his  in 
dustry  to  continued  exertion;  and  after  ten  or 
fifteen  lessons  he  came  up  deficient  again. 

"Why  have  you  not  got  this  lesson,  sir?"  said 
Mr.  Markham  with  terrific  sternness. 

"I — I — was  sick,  sir." 

This  was  William's  first  falsehood ;  but  it  saved 
him  from  a  whipping  which  he  awfully  dreaded; 
for  though  Mr.  Markham  knew  that  he  had  not 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    253 

told  the  truth,  he  deemed  it  best  to  admit  the 
excuse,  at  least  so  far  as  to  withhold  the  rod  of 
correction  for  the  present. 

As  he  dismissed  the  school,  he  told  William  to 
remain  a  few  moments,  and  when  they  were  alone 
he  thus  addressed  him: 

"  William,  I  very  much  fear  you  told  me  a  false 
hood  to-day.  I  saw  you  all  the  morning,  before 
you  came  to  recite,  idling,  and  whispering,  without 
any  appearance  of  sickness;  and  since  the  recita 
tion  I  have  seen  no  sign  of  sickness  about  you. 
Still,  I  may  possibly  be  mistaken,  and  I  hope  I  am ; 
but' remember,  if  ever  I  find  you  telling  a  lie  to  hide 
your  faults,  I  will  punish  you  more  severely  than 
I  would  without  the  lie. "  He  then  proceeded  to 
counsel  him  kindly  and  affectionately  against  the 
danger  of  lying. 

William  went  home  in  sadness  and  in  tears,  for 
his  conscience  gave  him  no  rest.  His  mother 
sought  in  vain  for  the  cause  of  his  distress.  The 
next  day  he  went  to  the  school  and  acquitted 
himself  well  for  that  and  the  four  succeeding  days, 
for  which  Mr.  Markham  gave  him  great  credit  and 
encouragement.  On  the  fifth  day  he  got  per 
mission  to  go  out,  and  as  he  remained  out  an 
unusually  long  time,  Mr.  Markham  went  in  quest 
of  him,  and  found  him  in  the  act  of  concealing  his 


254         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

book  among  some  rubbish  near  the  school -house. 
He  was  unobserved  by  William,  and  he  withdrew 
to  the  school-room.  Just  before  recitation  hour, 
William  made  his  appearance.  What  he  had  been 
doing  during  his  absence  was  not  known ;  but  that 
he  had  not  been  studying  was  manifest  from  his 
conduct,  and  still  more  manifest  from  his  ignor 
ance  of  the  lesson  when  he  came  to  recite. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing,  William, "  said  Mr. 
Markham,  "  that  you  know  nothing  of  this  lesson?" 
"I  lost  my  book,  sir,  and  I  couldn't  find  it." 
Mr.  Markham  passed  the  matter  over  until  he 
dismissed  his  school,  when  he  detained  William, 
told  him  where  his  book  was,  repeated  his  lecture 
upon  lying,  and  enforced  it  with  a  pretty  severe 
flogging.  William  had  never  experienced  the  like 
of  that  before,  and  probably  would  never  have 
experienced  it  again  but  for  the  imprudence  of  his 
mother  and  her  friends.  He  promised  his  pre 
ceptor  that  he  would  never  repeat  his  offense; 
and  he  went  home  with  a  countenance  and  manner 
indicative  of  a  fixed  purpose  to  keep  his  promise. 
He  told  his  mother  nothing  of  what  had  happened, 
nor  did  she  find  it  out  for  four  days  afterwards. 
In  the  meantime,  William  was  all  that  she  or  his 
preceptor  could  wish  him  to  be.  It  so  happened, 
however,  that  Thomas  Nokes  had  lingered  about 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL   255 

the  school-house,  and  seen  all  that  had  transpired 
between  William  and  his  teacher.  He  went  home 
where  he  found  Mrs.  Glib,  one  of  Mrs.  Mitten's 
most  devoted  friends — as  she  proved,  by  carrying 
to  her  all  news  that  was  likely  to  affect  her  peace. 
Mrs.  Glib  had  stopped  on  her  way  to  her  brother's 
in  the  country  to  bid  Mrs.  Nokes  farewell,  and  had 
actually  risen  to  depart,  when  Tom  stepped  in, 
big  with  the  events  of  the  day. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said.he,  "  Mr.  Markham  give 
Bill  Mitten  jorum,  to-day." 

"It  isn't  possible,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Glib,  "that 
Mr.  Markham  has  whipped  that  dear,  sweet, 
lovely  boy." 

Mrs.  Nokes  tried  to  catch  Tom's  eye,  that  she 
might  stop  him;  but  his  whole  attention  was 
directed  to  Mrs.  Glib,  and  he  went  on — 

"  Yes,  he  did — and  he  licked  it  into  him  like 
flugins.  I'll  be  bound  he  made  the  blood  come. " 

Here  Tom  caught  his  mother's  eye,  which  was 
darting  lightnings  at  him,  and  he  concluded,  "  but  I 
don't  reckon  he  hurt  him  much,  though!" 

"  Oh,  the  brute ! "  muttered  Mrs.  Glib,  as  she  left 
the  house  for  the  carriage. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  from  her 
departure,  she  returned  to  the  village,  and  immedi 
ately  hastened  over  to  Mrs.  Mitten's.  Mrs.  Mitten 


256         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

met  her  at  the  door  very  cheerfully,  and  very 
cordially. 

"Oh,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Glib,  "how  happy  I  am 
to  find  you  so  cheerful !  I  was  afraid  I  should  find 
you  in  tears." 

" In  tears!    For  what?" 

"Why,  for  the  unmerciful  beating  which  Mr. 
Markham  gave  to  your  dear,  sweet,  lovely  little 
William,  last  Friday. " 

"Surely  there  must  be  some  mistake,  Mrs. 
Glib.  William  never  said  a  word  to  me  about  it ; 
and  not  fifteen  minutes  before  you  came  in,  Mr. 
Markham  was  here  congratulating  me  on  the 
progress  my  child  was  making  in  everything  that 
was  good. " 

Here  Mrs.  Glib  looked  as  if  she  had  taken  an 
emetic  which  was  just  about  to  operate ;  and  after 
a  short  pause,  she  proceeded: 

"  Well,  I  hope  it  is  a  mistake;  but  it  came  to  me 
from  an  eye  witness.  You  know  I  don't  send  my 
children  to  Mr.  Markham  because  I  don't  choose  to 
have  my  children  cut  and  slashed  about  like  galley- 
slaves,  for  every  little  childish  error  they  commit — 
breaking  down  their  spirit,  and  teaching  them 
sneaking  and  lying,  and  everything  that's  low  and 
mean.  Mr.  Toper  never  whips ;  and  I  don't  see  but 
that  my  children  get  along  under  him  as  well  as 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL   257 

other  people's  children."  (Here  Mrs.  Mitten 
covered  her  face  with  her  handkerchief,  either 
to  hide  her  grief  or  a  smile  which  grief  could  not 
extinguish,  or  blushes  of  conscience  for  she  had 
warned  her  son  against  ever  associating  with  the 
Glibs.)  "But  you  know  how  strict  Mrs.  Nokes 
is  with  her  children;  one  of  them  would  as  soon 
put  his  head  in  the  fire  as  tell  a  lie — specially  before 
her.  Well,  Thomas  told  me,  right  in  her  presence, 
that  Markham  whipped  William  till  he  drew  the 
blood  from  him!" 

"Mercy  on  me!"  groaned  Mrs.  Mitten,  "why 
didn't  William  tell  me  of  it?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  easily  accounted  for.  My  George 
Washington  Alexander  Augustus  says  that  John 
Brown  told  him,  that '  if  anybody  went  to  carrying 
tales  out  of  Mr.  Markham's  school,  he'd  make  'em 
dance  juba.'  Poor  William  dare  not  tell  of  it. 
John  said,  moreover,  that  Markham  dragged  him 
from  his  seat  the  first  day  that  he  went  to  school, 
and  would  have  whipped  him  then,  if  he  had 
been  in  school  a  little  longer." 

"  I  fear, "  said  Mrs.  Mitten,  with  streaming  eyes, 
"that  I  offended  Mr.  Markham  when  I  placed 
William  under  him,  by  telling  him  that  William 
was  easy  to  lead  but  hard  to  drive.  He  immedi 
ately  showed  some  reluctance  at  receiving  him. 

17 


STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 


But  I  only  meant  to  apprise  him  of  the  child's 
disposition.  Poor  child,  with  all  his  talents,  I 
fear  he  is  doomed  to  bad  luck." 

"Oh,  no,  madam;  I  can  explain  the  matter 
better  than  that.  George  Markham  was  given  up 
on  all  hands  to  be  the  smartest  boy  in  school. 
Now  everybody  knew  what  a  prodigy  William  was, 
and  old  Markham  knew  that  as  soon  as  William 
entered  the  school,  his  beloved  darling,  precious 
George,  would  have  to  come  down  a  notch.  All 
the  boys  say  that  William  is  smarter  than  George, 
and  yet  that  old  Markham  is  always  pecking  at 
him.  Who  can't  see  the  reason?" 

Just  at  this  moment  William  made  his  appear 
ance  with  a  bright  and  joyous  face;  and  holding 
up  a  most  beautiful  edition  of  Sanford  and  Merton. 
"  See,  ma,  "  said  he,  "  what  Mr.  Markham  gave  me 
to-day  for  keeping  head  of  George  three  days. 
And  he  says  if  I'll  keep  head  of  him  eight  days 
more,  he'll  give  me  a  book  worth  twice  as  much, 
and  I  mean  to  do  it,  too.  " 

"  What  hypocrisy!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Glib.  "He's 
got  wind  of  it!" 

"William,"  said  his  mother,  "did  Mr.  Mark- 
ham  whip  you  last  Friday?"  In  an  instant  his 
countenance  fell,  and  his  eyes  filled. 

"Yes,   ma'am,"   whispered  William.     "But   I 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    259 

don't  think  he  will  whip  me  again,  for  I  mean  to 
be  a  good  boy." 

"Poor,  blessed,  little  innocent  angel-lamb!" 
sighed  forth  Mrs.  Glib  with  honest  sympathy. 

"And  haven't  you  always  been  a  good  boy,  my 
son?" 

"Ye-e-sm'm." 

"Then  what  did  he  whip  you  for?" 

"He  said  I  told  a  lie,  and  wouldn't  get  my 
lesson!" 

"Oh,  shocking,  shocking — worse  and  worse!" 
vociferated  Mrs.  Glib.  "I'd  stake  my  salvation 
on  it,  that  child  never  told  an  untruth  in  all  his 
life." 

It  was  very  unlucky  for  William  that  Mrs.  Glib 
made  this  remark,  and  still  more  unlucky  that  his 
mother  did  not  suspend  her  examination  here 
until  Mrs.  Glib  retired. 

"William,  it  would  break  my  heart  to  discover 
that  you  had  told  a  lie ;  but  if  you  have  told  one, 
confess  it,  my  child,  to  your  mother!" 

William  paused  and  pondered,  as  well  he  might, 
for  having  Mrs.  Glib's  salvation  and  his  mother's 
heart  in  one  eye,  and  Mr.  Markham's  awful  lie- 
physic  in  the  other,  he  was  in  the  most  perplexing 
dilemma. 

"  Don't  you  see,  Mrs.  Mitten,  that  the  child  is 


26o         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

actually  afraid  to  deny  that  he  told  a  lie?  He 
knows  that  if  it  gets  to  Markham's  ears  that  he 
denied  it,  he'd  beat  him  to  death.  Didn't  he  whip 
you  very  severely,  William?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Where  did  he  whip  you?" 

11  On  the  calf  of  my  legs. " 

11  Well,  now,  do  let  us  examine  them!  I  lay  the 
marks  of  the  whip  are  upon  them  to  this  day. " 

William's  pants  were  rolled  up,  and  at  the  first 
glance,  his  legs  seemed  as  white  and  as  spotless  as 
pure  alabaster.  But  a  glance  did  not  satisfy  Mrs. 
Glib.  She  was  confident  that  William  had 
received  "jorum, "  and  that  marks  of  it  might  yet 
be  found.  Accordingly,  she  put  on  her  specs  and 
squatted  down  to  a  close  examination  of  William's 
legs,  beginning  at  the  left. 

11  Look  here,  Mrs.  Mitten,  "  said  she,  after  a  short 
search,  "isn't  this  the  mark  of  a  whip?" 

"N-no, "  said  Mrs.  Mitten  carelessly,  "I  believe 
it's  nothing  but  a  vein." 

"  It's  no  vein,  my  word  for  it ;  it's  too  straight 
for  a  vein.  I'm  told  that  whip-marks,  just  before 
they  disappear,  can  hardly  be  distinguished  from 


veins." 


Proceeding  from  the  left  leg  to  the  right,  she 
examined  for  some  time  with  no  better  success. 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    261 

At  length,  however,  on  the  right  side  of  the  limb, 
she  found  the  palpable  marks  of  "jorum."  For 
reasons  that  need  not  be  given,  I  hold  myself 
perfectly  competent  to  explain  this  matter  with 
unquestionable  accuracy.  Jorum  is  always  ad 
ministered  with  a  scarificator ;  and  in  receiving  it, 
it  is  almost  impossible  for  the  patient  to  keep  his 
legs  still.  The  consequence  sometimes  is,  that  the 
scarificator,  which  is  made  and  intended  to  act 
simultaneously  and  equally  upon  both  limbs, 
hardly  scratches  one,  while  it  spends  all  its  force 
(double  force)  upon  the  other.  William  had  obvi 
ously  "danced  juba"  under  the  operation,  and  in 
three  of  his  movements  he  had  so  distracted  the 
instrument  that  the  end  of  it  pressed  much  harder 
upon  the  flesh  in  these  places  than  the  operator 
intended,  and  of  course  it  left  its  most  permanent 
mark  where  it  pressed  hardest.  Nor  is  it  true,  as 
Mrs.  Glib  was  informed,  that  its  mark  retires  in 
likeness  to  a  vein,  but  with  a  greenish,  straw-color, 
as  the  case  before  her  proved. 

Mrs.  Glib  had  no  sooner  discovered  these  marks, 
than  she  went  through  divers  evolutions  of  horror, 
better  suited  to  the  Inquisition  than  to  this  occa 
sion.  At  length  she  became  composed  enough  to 
speak. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Mitten,  see  what  your  dear,  lovely, 


262        STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

brilliant   boy   has   suffered.     Think   of   when   it 
was  done!" 

Mrs.  Mitten  looked,  and  burst  into  tears  afresh. 
Just  at  this  point,  her  daughters  made  their  ap 
pearance,  and  the  matter  being  explained  to  them, 
they  burst  into  tears;  and  William  seeing  his 
mother  and  sisters  weeping,  he  burst  into  tears. 
In  the  midst  of  this  affecting  scene,  David  Thom 
son,  Mrs.  Mitten's  brother,  made  his  appearance, 
and  he  didn't  burst  into  tears. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter — what's  to  pay?" 
enquired  he,  with  no  little  alarm. 

The  ladies  all  answered  at  once,  with  different 
degrees  of  exaggeration,  but  all  to  the  same  point, 
mainly,  that  Markham  had  beaten  William  most 
unmercifully. 

"Why,  nothing  seems  to  be  the  matter  with 
him,  that  I  can  see. " 

"  Look  at  his  legs. " 

"Well,  I  see  nothing  the  matter  with  his  legs." 

"Look  at  his  right  leg!" 

"Well,  I  see  nothing  the  matter  with  his  leg." 

"Look  on  the  right  side  of  his  right  leg." 

"Well,  I  see  nothing  on  the  right  side  of  the 
right  leg." 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Thomson,"  said  Mrs.  Glib, 
"bend  down  a  little — do  you  see  these  marks?" 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    263 

"  Psh-e-e-e-t!  Why  surely  you  have  all  run 
crazy!  Is  it  possible  you're  making  all  this  fuss 
over  these  three  little  specks?" 

"  Those  specks,  as  you  call  them,  brother,  are  the 
remains  of  what  was  put  on  my  child's  tender 
flesh  four  days  ago." 

"  And  have  you  all  just  made  up  your  minds  to 
cry  about  it?" 

"  We  did  not  know  of  it,  Brother  David, before." 

"Why,  didn't  William  tell  you  of  it?" 

"No,  poor  child,  he  hardly  dare  talk  about  it 
now.  He  is  completely  cowed.  Since  he  went 
to  school  he  seems  to  have  been  buried;  nobody 
notices,  or  speaks  of  the  child,  any  more  than  if 
he  were  dead." 

"  Yes,  there  it  is !  You  have  been  feasting  upon 
his  praises  so  long,  that  you  cannot  live  without 
them.  What  did  Markham  whip  him  for?" 

"  The  charge  was,  telling  a  lie  and  neglecting  his 
lessons." 

"Well,  are  you  sure  he  did  not  tell  a  lie?" 

"  Oh,  brother,  how  can  you  ask  such  a  question 
right  before  the  child's  face?  Yes,  I'm  just  as  sure 
of  it  as  I  can  be  of  anything.  I  never  detected 
William  in  a  lie  in  all  my  life. " 

"No,  nor  you   never  will,  the   way  you  are 
going  on,  if  he  told  a  thousand.     Now,  if  Mark- 


264         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

ham  whipped  him  for  lying,  I'll  vouch  for  it,  he 
told  a  lie,  and  Markham  knew  it;  for  he  never 
moves  without  seeing  his  way  clear." 

"  I  think  he  has  a  prejudice- against  William,  and 
I  think  I  know  the  reason  of  it." 

"  Prej udice !  He's  incapable  of  prejudice  against 
anybody,  much  less  against  little  silly  children. 
I'll  go  over  and  see  him,  and  learn  the  whole  truth 
of  the  matter." 

"No,  you  needn't  trouble  yourself,  brother;  I 
shall  not  send  William  to  school  to  him  any  longer." 

"  Why,  Anna,  you  surely  are  not  going  to  take 
your  child  from  school  without  hearing  from  Mr. 
Markham  the  particulars  of  this  matter!" 

"  I  don't  want  any  particulars,  more  than  my 
own  eyes  have  seen.  Suppose  the  child  actually 
did  tell  a  lie  (which  nobody  who  knows  him  will 
believe),  it  wouldn't  justify  Mr.  Markham  in  beat 
ing  him  to  death. " 

"  Beating  him  to  death?  He's  certainly  a  very 
natural  looking  corpse!  And  when  you  take  him 
from  school,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
him?" 

"  I'd  rather  send  him  to  Mr.  Toper,  than  have 
him  cut  and  slashed  to  pieces  by  Markham." 

"Toper!  What,  that  drunken  booby,  who 
hardly  knows  B  from  bull's  foot." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    265 

"Good  morning,  ladies!"  said  Mrs.  Glib,  "good 
morning,  Captain  Thomson." 

"  Why,  brother!  How  could  you  talk  so  of  Mr. 
Toper?  Don't  you  know  that  Mrs.  Glib  sends  her 
children  to  him?  She'll  go  right  off  and  tell  him 
what  you  said." 

"No,  I  don't  know,  nor  don't  care  where  she 
sends  them.  All  I  know  about  them  is,  that 
Toper  is  a  drunken  fool,  and  that  her  children  are 
perfect  nuisances  to  the  town;  and  that  if  you 
mean  to  send  your  child  to  the  devil,  Toper  is 
the  very  man  to  carry  him  for  you.  Mrs.  Glib 
may  tell  him  all  this  too,  if  she  chooses;  and  then, 
if  he  opens  his  mouth  to  me  about  the  matter, 
I'll  kick  him  out  of  the  town,  as  a  public  charity.' ' 

"  I  only  said  I  had  rather  send  my  child  to 
Mr.  Toper  than  to  have  him  beaten  so.  I  think  I 
shall  employ  a  private  tutor." 

"  And  pay  ten  times  as  much  as  is  needful  for 
your  child's  instruction;  and  then  have  him  not 
half  as  well  taught  as  he  will  be  by  Markham ! 
Anna,  I  beseech  you,  I  implore  you  for  your  child's 
sake,  don't  act  at  all  in  this  matter  under  your 
present  feelings.  Let  the  matter  rest  until  I  can 
see  Markham  and  learn  the  whole  history  of  it. 
I  know  more  of  boys  than  you  do.  They  do  many 
things  at  school  that  they  never  do  at  home,  for 


266         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

the  plain  reason  that  they  are  under  many  tempta 
tions  at  school  which  they  are  not  under  at  home. 
You  are  probably  now  at  the  turning  point  oi 
your  child's  destiny,  and  one  false  step  may  ruin 
him  forever." 

Strange  to  tell,  William  listened  to  his  uncle 
with  a  kind  of  approving  amazement,  and  as  soon 
as  he  had  concluded,  said : 

"Ma,  I'm  willing  to  go  back  to  Mr.  Markham 
now;  I  a'nt  afraid  of  him;  I  don't  think  he'll 
ever  whip  me  again." 

"That's  a  brave  boy,"  said  the  Captain. 
"Every  word  in  the  sentence  is  worth  a  guinea. 
No  good  boy  fears  Mr.  Markham." 

"Ah,  poor  child!"  said  Mrs.  Mitten— "he  knows 
little  of  the  world's  duplicity.  He  little  dreams 
of  the  undercurrent  that  is  at  work  against  him." 

"What  undercurrent?  Is  it  possible,  Anna, 
that  after  nine  years'  acquaintance  with  Markham 
you  can  suspect  him  of  duplicity  and  secret 
hostility  to  such  a  child  as  that — your  child — my 
nephew!" 

"Mr.  Markham's  not  perfection,  if  what  I've 
heard  of  him  is  true,"  said  Miss  Jane. 

"No,"  said  Miss  Ann,  "and  if  I  was  ma,  I'd  die 
before  I'd  send  Brother  William  back  to  him  to  be 
beaten  like  a  dog." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL  267 

"And  if  I  was  ma  I'd  learn  you  to  hold  your 
tongues  till  your  counsel  was  asked  for." 

"  Oh,  do,  brother,  let  the  girls  express,  their 
opinions.  I  should  suppose  that  one  might  have 
an  opinion  of  even  Mr.  Markharn  without  hav 
ing  their  heads  snapped  off." 

"  Well,  Anna,  I  see  your  mind  is  made  up  to  take 
William  from  Mr.  Markham's  school." 

"  Yes,  I'm  resolved  upon  it. " 

"And  without  one  word  of  explanation  from 
Mr.  Markham!" 

"Yes;  I  want  none  of  his  explanations." 

"  Ma, "  said  William,  "  let  me  go  back  to  the  end 
of  the  quarter." 

"  Bravo,  Bill !  Go  back,  my  son — be  a  good  boy 
and  learn  your  book,  and  you'll  be  a  noble  fellow 
by  and  by. " 

"  Brother  David,  do  you  think  it  right  to  en 
courage  a  poor  little  ignorant  child  to  run  counter 
to  his  mother's  wishes?" 

"No,  Anna;  but  I  supposed  that  the  wishes  of 
the  child  in  whom  you  are  so  wrapped  up  might 
save  you  from  rash  resolutions  concerning  him." 

"  Well,  it  is  not  necessary  to  debate  the  matter 
further.  I  vow  he  never  shall  go  back  to  Mr. 
Markham's  school,  and  that  is  the  long  and  short 
of  it. " 


268.         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAi. 

Captain  Thomson  wheeled  off  and  left  the 
house  as  if  to  get  something  of  importance  that  he 
had  left  in  a  dangerous  place.  In  about  half  an 
hour  he  returned. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  have  seen  Markham,  and 
heard  the  whole  matter  explained." 

And  he  gave  it  from  first  to  last,  just  as  it 
occurred.  Still  Mrs.  Mitten  adhered  to  her  resolu- 

• 

tion.  He  argued,  he  entreated,  he  implored,  he 
forewarned,  he  remonstrated,  he  used  every  means 
that  he  could  think  of  to  change  her  mind,  but  to 
no  purpose.  The  truth  is,  Mrs.  Mitten  would  not 
place  her  son  where  he  was  liable  to  be  whipped. 
Her  brother  left  in  a  storm. 

I  have  been  thus  particular  in  giving  this  part  of 
William's  history  because  it  proved  in  the  end,  as 
the  sequel  will  show,  to  be  remarkably  unlucky, 
and  fruitful  of  wonderful  consequences. 

The  reader  will  remember  that  we  left  Mrs. 
Mitten  resolved  to  remove  Master  William  from 
Mr.  Markham 's  school.  Her  resolution  was  car 
ried  into  effect;  and  she  forthwith  began  to  look 
out  for  a  private  teacher  for  her  son.  But 
unluckily  no  such  teacher  was  just  then  to  be 
found;  she  was  constrained,  therefore,  to  adver 
tise  for  one;  and  though  she  placed  her  adver 
tisement  in  three  gazettes,  of  pretty  general 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    269 

circulation,  three  months  rolled  away  before  any 
one  proffered  his  services  to  Master  William.  In 
the  meantime  our  little  hero  was  a  gentleman  at 
large;  and  having  formed  many  acquaintances  at 
school,  common  courtesy  required  that  he  should 
give  them  as  much  of  his  attention  as  he  could. 
Accordingly  he  was  with  them  at  every  inter 
mission  of  their  studies,  and  took  great  pleasure 
in  attending  the  evening  parties  of  such  as  were 
smart  enough  to  do  without  evening  study.  These 
soon  became  so  frequent  that  William  entirely 
neglected  his  mother's  parties  for  them;  by  means 
whereof  his  mother  and  her  friends  lost  the  enter 
tainment  which  he  used  to  afford  them  upon  such 
occasions.  She  often  demanded  of  him  expla 
nations  of  his  discourtesy  to  his  old  admirers, 
which  he  promptly  gave  to  her  entire  satisfaction. 
Sometimes  he  was  at  the  Juvenile  Debating  So 
ciety;  at  others  he  was  at  a  prayer  meeting;  at 
one  time  he  "went  to  hear  Parson  Deleth's  lec 
ture"  (On  the  Importance  of  the  Oriental  Lan 
guages  to  the  Student  of  Theology).  At  another 
he  went  to  hear  the  Euterpean  band;  and  at  all 
other  times  he  was  taking  tea  with  good  boys,  or 
engaged  in  some  laudable  employment.  As  the 
young  Glibs  had  rather  more  leisure  than  any 
other  boys  in  town,  and  as  their  mother  had 


2  70         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

charged  them  to  cultivate  a  close  acquaintance 
with  Master  William,  they  were  frequently  thrown 
together.  At  first  William  was  rather  shy  of  those 
acquaintances;  but  as  they  forced  themselves 
into  his  company,  pleading  their  mother's  order 
for  so  doing,  he  could  not  well  refuse  to  take  them 
under  his  moral  training.  Accordingly  they  soon 
became  very  intimate ;  and  William  was  pleased  to 
find  that  they  were  by  no  means  as  bad  boys  as 
his  mother  took  them  to  be.  Withal  he  soon 
discovered  that  they  were  possessed  of  a  vast 
fund  of  information,  which  they  communicated 
to  him  freely;  first  to  his  astonishment,  and  after 
wards  to  his  delight.  They  knew  who  had  the 
best  apples,  peaches,  plums,  cherries  and  melons 
in  the  town  and  neighborhood — what  gardens  con 
tained  the  most  strawberries,  raspberries,  grapes, 
figs  and  pomegranates — who  had  the  earliest  and 
latest  fruits — what  time  bad  dogs  were  turned 
loose  at  night — where  hens,  guinea-chickens,  ducks 
and  turkeys  were  in  the  habit  of  laying.  They 
were  masters  of  all  culinary  matters  except  the 
higher  branches  of  cookery.  Nor  were  these 
young  gentlemen  without  personal  accomplish 
ments,  corresponding  with  their  vast  mental  en 
dowments.  They  were  the  most  expert  climbers 
of  trees  and  fences  in  the  country.  They  were 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    271 

good  riders  and  better  runners.  Though  one  of 
them  was  two  months,  another  fifteen  and  another 
thirty-seven  months  older  than  William,  they 
could  slip  through  gaps  that  he  feared  to  attempt. 
They  could  heel  a  game-cock,  whet  a  jack-knife, 
and  shoot  a  pistol  with  unrivaled  skill — their  age 
considered.  They  could  recognize  people  in  the 
dark  with  the  eye  of  an  owl ;  and  run  half -bent  in 
guttei  L~  d  ditches,  faster  than  William  could,  on 
a  pla_i .  They  could  perform  many  amusing  and 
ingenious  tricks  with  cards;  and  smoke  segars, 
chew  tobacco  and  drink  cordial,  apple-toddy, 
egg-nog  and  the  like,  with  marvelous  grace  and 
impunity. 

At  the  end  of  three  or  four  weeks  from  the  time 
that  William  left  school,  Mr.  Markham's  examina 
tion  came  off,  and  most  of  the  town  attended  it. 
The  visitors  were,  as  usual,  liberal  in  their  praises 
of  such  as  did  well;  and  these,  William,  who  was 
present,  heard  with  painful  emotions.  They  were 
praises  which  made  his  tea-party  compliments 
seem  insignificant.  Here  was  competition,  and 
not  one  was  praised,  of  whom  he  did  not  know 
himself  to  be  decidedly  the  superior.  The  exam 
ination  closed  with  an  allotment  of  prizes  to  the 
best  in  the  several  classes,  by  judges  appointed 
for  that  purpose.  William  saw  one  and  another 


27 2         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

distributed   with   increasing   dejection   and   self- 
reproach.     At  length  George  Markham  was  called 
out  on  the  stage,  and  Judge  Dawson  advancing  to 
him  with  a  large  silver  medal,  suspended  by  a 
crimson  ribbon  with  tasteful  decorations,  observed :: 
"  Master  George,  in  the  course  of  the  examination 
you  have  labored  under  some  disadvantages;  for 
the  judges,  from  an  apprehension  that  their  high 
respect  for  your  teacher  might  be   unconsciously 
transferred  to  his  son,  have  been  more  vigilant 
of  inaccuracies  in  you  than  in  any  of  your  school 
mates.     So    well    have    you    acquitted    yourself, 
however,  that  you  have  entirely  relieved  us  from 
all  apprehension  of  doing  you  injustice  on  either 
hand,  and  we  presume  there  will  not  be  a  dissent 
ing  voice  in  this  large  and  respectable  assembly, 
to  our  judgment,  which  awards  to  you  the  first 
honor  in  your  class;  in  token  of  which  we  present 
you  this   beautiful   medal.      Remember,"     con 
tinued  Judge  Dawson,  as  he  placed  the  loop  of 
the  ribbon  over  the  head  of  Master  George,  and 
dropped  the  medal  on  his  breast — "remember  as 
often  as  you  look  upon  that  medal,  that  on  the  day 
you  received  it,  you  raised'  the  highest  expecta 
tions  of  your  future  distinction,  and  resolved  never 
to  disappoint  them. "  As  the  Judge  concluded,  the 
house  thundered  with  applause.    William  dropped 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    273 

his  head  and  wept  bitterly ;  for  he  felt  that  all  this 
would  have  been  his  had  he  remained  at  school. 

In  the  afternoon  the  usual  exhibition  came  off. 
We  may  not  dwell  upon  the  performances  of  each 
of  the  students  respectively.  For  reasons  which 
will  be  hereafter  observed,  we  notice  but  two. 

The  fourth  speaker  called  out  was  Master  John 
Brown.  John  stepped  out  so  completely  metamor 
phosed  that  William  himself  hardly  knew  him. 
His  hair  was  combed  down  straight  and  slick. 
The  lard-gourd  had  obviously  been  laid  under 
contributions  for  it.  His  feet  were  disguised  under 
shoes  and  stockings.  His  suit  was  all  new  and  of 
course  all  of  one  color.  His  mother  had  tried 
herself  upon  it  from  the  spinning  of  the  first  thread 
to  the  fitting  of  it  on.  But  nature  had  decreed 
that  John  should  be  a  funny  looking  fellow  in 
spite  of  dress ;  and  as  he  stepped  to  the  centre  of 
the  stage,  as  if  laboring  under  a  slight  founder  (for 
shoes  manifestly  pestered  him),  an  involuntary 
smile  diffused  itself  over  every  countenance.  He 
made  his  bow,  and  in  a  clear,  distinctly  audible 
voice  he  began: 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen:  You  will  not  be  sur 
prised  that  I  should  have  selected  as  my  theme  for 
your  entertainment  this  afternoon  the  incalculable 
advantages  of  personal  beauty." 

is 


274         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Here  it  seemed  that  the  house  would  be  knocked 
to  pieces.  Men,  women  and  children  laughed  and 
thumped  immoderately;  and  even  Mr.  Markham 
could  not  preserve  his  usual  gravity.  Mrs. 
Brown  plainly  showed  that  her  trouble  in  rigging 
out  John  was  repaid  by  the  very  first  sentence. 
With  almost  every  other,  the  same  scene  was 
renewed;  until  at  length  all  respect  for  order 
seemed  to  be  forgotten ;  and  such  commendations 
as  these  might  be  heard  in  undertones  all  over  the 
house :  ' '  Well  done,  flat-head !  "  "  Hurrah ,  short- 
neck  I "  "  Bravo,  pug-nose ! "  "I  tell  you  stiff-leg  is 
some!"  "Give  me  homespun  at  last."  John  con 
cluded,  and  had  it  been  allowable,  he,  doubtless, 
would  have  been  encored  at  least  three  times. 
He  owed  most  of  his  credit  to  the  patient  and  care 
ful  drilling  of  his  teacher,  but  there  were  few  in 
the  school  who  could  have  improved  good  drilling 
as  well  as  John  did. 

Next  to  John's  speech,  the  most  amusing  thing 
in  the  exhibition  was  a  dialogue  between  George 
Markham  and  David  Thomson,  which  elicited 
great  applause.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  exer 
cises,  honors  were  a  second  time  distributed,  and 
young  Markham  was  again  complimented  with  a 
prize.  Brown  got  one,  of  course,  which  was  ren 
dered  doubly  complimentary,  by  another  peal  of 
applause  as  he  received  it. 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    275 

All  this  was  slow  murder  to  William  Mitten. 
Nor  did  his  tortures  end  here.  Seeing  his  uncle 
and  Mr.  Markham  in  conversation  as  the  company 
retired,  he  flattered  himself  that  they  were  nego 
tiating  for  his  return  to  school,  and  he  drew  near 
to  them  unobserved  by  either,  and  overheard  this 
conversation : 

"  That  little  fellow  Brown  is  an  odd  looking  fish, 
Mr.  Markham,  but  there's  some  gumption  in  him 
after  all." 

"  He's  rough  material  to  polish,  but  he  has  some 
talent ;  and  if  he  can  be  made  to  study,  he  may  be 
a  man  of  worth  yet. " 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  the  very  handsome 
manner  in  which  your  son  acquitted  himself  in 
everything." 

"He  may  thank  Mrs.  Mitten  for  his  honors  of 
to-day,  for  had  she  suffered  her  son  to  remain  at 
school,  George  would  not  have  touched  a  single 
honor.  When  William  studied  (and  he  had  begun 
to  study  well)  he  was  vastly  superior  to  George  in 
everything.  The  dialogue  was  written  on  purpose 
to  show  off  his  wonderful  dramatic  talent. 
George's  part  was  designed  for  him,  and  your  son's 
for  George ;  and  I'll  venture  to  say,  that  I  can  take 
William  and  read  over  the  part  to  him  but  once, 
and  he  will  perform  it  decidedly  better  than  George 


276         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

did.  He  spoke  before  me  but  three  or  four  times 
while  he  was  with  me.  The  first  time,  I  read  over 
his  piece  to  him  after  he  had  repeated  it,  and 
made  him  deliver  it  again;  and  I  was  amazed  to 
see  how  exactly  he  followed  my  reading  in  every 
respect.  Take  him  altogether,  I  think  he  is  de 
cidedly  the  smartest  boy  I  ever  had  in  my  school. " 
Here  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the 
congratulations  of  several  other  gentlemen. 

William  went  home  in  tortures,  and  hardly  slept 
a  wink  that  night.  He  would  have  given  the 
world  for  the  honors  and  praises  which  George 
Markham  had  received  that  day;  and  he  would 
have  been  willing  to  have  changed  persons  with 
John  Brown,  for  the  trophies  which  John  had  won. 

The  next  morning  he  recounted  to  his  mother  all 
the  events  of  the  day,  and  particularly  the  conver 
sation  which  he  had  heard  between  his  uncle  and 
Mr.  Markham.  She  was  now  stung  nearly  or 
quite  as  deeply  as  her  son.  But  what  could  she 
do?  Her  vow  was  out  and  it  must  be  kept. 

"Well,  my  child,"  said  she  despondingly,  "all 
this  only  goes  to  show  that  you  are  born  to  ill- 
luck.  But  I  hope  it  is  all  for  the  best.  Those  who 
are  unlucky  in  youth  are  apt  to  be  lucky  in  old 
age,  it  is  said — and  I  hope  it  will  be  so  with  you. " 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    277 

"  Ma,  when  you  get  your  private  teacher  will  he 
have  any  exhibitions?" 

"No,  my  son,  he  will  have  no  scholar  but  you." 

"  Then  I  don't  want  to  go  to  a  private  teacher. " 

"  But  remember,  my  child,  that  as  he  will  have 
but  one  to  attend  to,  he  can  teach  you  a  great 
deal  better,  and  bring  you  on  a  great  deal  faster 
than  Mr.  Markham  could,  who  has  so  many  in 
charge.  And  study  well,  and  you  will  soon  enter 
college,  where  you  will  have  an  opportunity  of 
showing  off  your  talents  not  simply  to  a  village, 
but  to  a  whole  State!" 

"  And  how  long  will  it  be  before  I  can  go  to  col 
lege?" 

"  With  your  gifts,  and  a  private  teacher,  I  have 
no  doubt  you  will  be  prepared  to  enter  college  in 
four  years  at  the  outside. " 

"Why,  Ma,  I'll  be  dead  before  four  years!" 

"Oh,  I  hope  not :  they  will  roll  round  before  you 
are  aware  of  it." 

As  the  private  teacher  had  not  yet  been  found, 
William  had  nothing  to  do  for  the  present,  and  he 
resumed  his  attention  to  public  and  devotional 
exercises,  in  fellowship  with  the  young  Glibs,  and 
others  of  their  stamp. 

A  few  days  after  this  Parson  Turner  was  an 
nounced  as  wishing  to  have  a  few  minutes'  private 


2 78          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

conversation  with  Mrs.  Mitten.  He  was  ushered 
into  the  parlor;  and  Mrs.  Mitten  soon  followed 
him. 

"Mrs.  Mitten,"  said  the  Parson,  "I  have  called 
on  you  to  beg  of  you  to  keep  your  son  at  home  on 
Wednesday  nights.  He  and  the  Glibs  come  to 
the  church  where  we  hold  our  prayer  meetings,  and 
sometimes  at  the  door,  and  sometimes  in  the  gal 
lery,  keep  up  such  a  laughing,  bleating  and  groan 
ing,  that  it  is  next  to  impossible  for  us  to  proceed 
with  our  devotions. " 

"Why,  Parson  Turner,  you  must  be  mistaken! 
I  have  always  taught  my  child  to  treat  religious 
services  with  the  most  profound  respect;  and  for 
reasons  that  need  not  be  mentioned,  I  am  con 
fident  that  he  is  hardly  acquainted  with  the  Glibs. 

"  No,  madam,  there  is  no  mistake  about  it.  We 
all  know  him  very  well. " 

"Well,  Parson  Turner,  I  will  enquire  into  the 
matter,  and,  if  I  find  it  so,  I  will  see  to  it  that  my 
son  disturbs  you  no  more." 

"  Whether  you  find  it  so  or  not,  I  assure  you 
madam  it  is  so."  So  saying  he  took  his  leave. 
He  had  not  been  gone  long  when  William  came  in. 

"William,"  said  his  mother,  "  do  you  associate 
with  the  Glibs?" 

"  They  sometimes  come  to  where  I  am,  and  then 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    279 

I  can't  get  rid  of  them;  but  I  don't  go  where 
they  are." 

"  Well,  now,  I  strictly  forbid  you  from  associat 
ing  with  those  boys.  They  are  very  bad  boys  and 
unfit  company  for  you.  Parson  Turner  says  you 
go  with  them  to  the  church,  and  behave  very 
rudely  during  prayer  meeting.  Is  that  so,  Wil 
liam?" 

"Twasn't  me,  ma,  it  was  the  Glib  boys." 

"  How  came  you  there  with  the  Glib  boys,  at 
all?" 

"  I  said  I  was  going  to  the  prayer  meeting  and 
they  followed  me. " 

"  Well,  my  son,  I'm  very  glad  to  learn  that  you 
didn't  misbehave  at  the  meeting.  Brought  up  as 
piously  as  you  have  been,  I  didn't  think  it  possible 
that  you  could  treat  religious  services  with  con 
tempt.  When  you  go  to  such  meetings  (which  I 
am  glad  to  find  you  disposed  to  do)  take  your  seat 
near  the  leader  of  them,  and  bad  boys  will  not 
follow  you  there.  Never  have  anything  to  do  with 
boys  that  can  trifle  with  sacred  things.  It's  the 
worst  sign  in  the  world." 

Mr.  Turner  went  from  Mrs.  Mitten's  to  Mrs. 
Glib's,  and  repeated  his  story. 

Mrs.  Glib  received  him  with  a  careless  chuckle, 
and  said  to  him: 


28o         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Turner,  I  wouldn't  mind  little  thought 
less  boys;  they  will  have  their  fun;  but  they'll 
quit  these  things  when  they  grow  older.  I'm  very 
cautious  against  reproving  my  children  for  little 
childish  freaks  in  church,  lest  I  should  excite  in 
them  a  dangerous  and  lasting  prejudice  against 
religion." 

Mr.  Turner,  after  sitting  petrified  for  about  a 
half  minute,  rose  and  abruptly  left  the  house. 

About  noon  on  the  following  Thursday,  Mrs. 
Glib  came  over  to  Mrs.  Mitten's,  in  a  great  flurry. 
"Oh,"  exclaimed  she,  as  she  entered  the  house, 
"do  you  know,  Mrs.  Mitten,  there's  a  warrant  out 
against  all  our  children !  I  got  wind  of  it  and  hid 
my  children;  but  I'm  told  they've  got  William" — 

"A  warrant!"  shrieked  Mrs.  Mitten.  "In 
mercy's  name  tell  me  what  has  my  child  been 
doing  to  have  a  warrant  out  against  him?" 

"Oh,  nothing  of  any  consequence — don't  be 
alarmed — nothing  but  disturbing  a  prayer-meet 
ing.  Squire  Crumb  says  there's  no  law  for  it; 
and  if  there  was,  throwing  stones  at  a  house  and 
setting  off  squibs  at  the  door  would  not  be  against 
the  law;  and  if  he  was  employed,  he'd  blow  it  all 
up.  But  Judge  Dawson  says  there  is  a  law  against 
disturbing  worshiping  assemblies.  I  was  afraid 
of  this,  when  Turner  went  about  complaining  of  the 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL   28! 

boys  for  their  little  sports.  You  know  such  things 
always  make  them  mad  and  worse  than  ever. " 

Mrs.  Mitten  was  nearly  distracted ;  for  her  head 
was  filled  with  jails,  and  punishment,  and  eternal 
disgrace,  which  she  supposed  the  invariable  accom 
paniments  of  warrants.  Her  brother  David  was 
sent  for,  post-haste;  and  he  was  soon  at  Mr. 
Justice  Easy's  office,  where  William  was  under 
arrest.  A  short  interview  between  him  and  Par 
son  Turner  settled  the  matter  amicably.  The 
latter  told  him  all  that  had  transpired  and  said 
he  saw  no  other  way  of  stopping  these  hopeful 
youths;  but  that  if  Mr.  Thomson  would  pledge 
himself  that  they  would  disturb  the  meetings 
no  more,  he  would  stop  the  prosecution.  The 
pledge  was  given,  and  the  matter  was  settled. 
This  done,  Mr.  Thomson  proceeded  with  William 
to  his  sister's,  where  he  found  the  two  mothers. 

"Where  are  your  children,  madam?"  said 
Thomson  sternly  to  Mrs.  Glib. 

11  Why,  they — I  expect  they  are — that  is,  I  think 
likely — which  one  of  them?" 

"Why,  all  of  them,  madam." 

"Oh,  I  have  not  seen  one  of  them  since  quite 
early  this  morning.  What  did  you  want  with  them, 
Captain  Thomson? " 

"  I  wished  to  know  from  their  own  lips  whether, 


282         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

if  I  get  them  out  of  this  scrape,  they'll  let  people 
pray  in  peace  hereafter." 

"Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes — I'll  engage  for  them;  and  I 
will  consider  myself  under  everlasting  obligations 
to  you,  Captain,  if  you'll  get  them  out." 

"  I  must  have  the  pledge  from  their  own  lips. " 

"Well,  I'll  run  home  and  see  if  they  are  not 
there.  I've  no  doubt  they  are,  for  they  always 
come  home  about  this  hour — what  o'clock  is  it?" 

"Half  after  twelve." 

"  Oh,  if  it's  as  late  as  that,  I'm  sure  I  shall  find 
them  at  home.  Stay  a  minute,  Captain,  and  I'll 
run  over  and  bring  them." 

She  soon  returned  with  her  three  boys,  who  were 
placed  with  William  before  the  Captain. 

"  Do  you  know,  young  gentlemen, "  said  he  with 
great  solemnity,  "  that  you  have  violated  the  laws 
of  your  country?  That  a  warrant  has  been  issued 
against  you,  to  vindicate  the  offended  majesty  of 
the  people's  laws?"  (Here  the  ladies  looked 
much  alarmed.)  "That,  unless  somebody  will 
befriend  you,  your  mothers  are  liable  to  be  mulct 
in  pounds  of  money ;  and  that  you  are  liable  to  be 
cast  in  prison  for  ten  long  days  and  nights,  with 
nothing  to  eat  but  bread  and  water,  and  nothing 
to  sleep  on  but  the  hard  floor  and  a  few  blankets? 
Then  be  dragged  to  a  court  of  justice,  before  the 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    283 

eyes  of  the  whole  world,  and  there  to  be  tried,  by 
a  jury  of  twelve  men  duly  empanelled  to  pass 
between  you  and  your  injured,  insulted  country? 
Then,  when  convicted  (as  you  are  certain  to  be), 
that  you  are  to  be  turned  over  to  Judge  Dawson 
(who  always  respects  religion,  and  whose  wife  is  a 
most  excellent  member  of  the  church),  to  be  dealt 
with  according  to  the  law  in  such  case  made  and 
provided?  And  do  you  furthermore  know,  that 
all  four  of  you  are  posting  to  the  devil  as  fast  as 
he  would  have  you  go?  Do  you  know  all  this  my 
hopeful  young  friends?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  boys. 

"Very  well.  Now,  I  am  disposed  to  befriend 
you  all ;  but  I  desire  to  know  what  I  am  to  expect 
from  you  if  I  do;  for  I  don't  wish  to  get  myself 
into  any  more  trouble  on  your  account.  If  I  can 
be  certain  that  you  will  never  get  into  any  more 
such  scrapes,  I'll  hush  up  all  this  matter,  as  I  know 
I  can ;  but  I  must  have  a  promise  from  all  of  you 
that,  if  I  do,  I  shall  have  no  more  such  matters  to 
hush  up.  As  for  Bill  there,  I'll  manage  him  myself ; 
and  if  he  goes  to  disturbing  religious  meetings  again, 
after  the  trouble  he  has  given  me,  and  after  I  have 
snatched  him  from  the  clutches  of  the  law,  I'll  give 
him  the  timber  myself,  harder  than  Markham  did, 
mother  or  no  mother,  objection  or  no  objection. " 


284         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"  In  such  case,  brother  David,  I  think  you  would 
be  perfectly  justifiable,  after  you  have  stood  his 
security  and" — 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Glib;  "and  in 
such  case,  I  would  not  think  of  opening  my  mouth, 
if  he  should  whip  my  children  too. " 

"  Well,  will  your  children  make  the  promise,  or 
will  they  prefer  going  to  jail? " 

"  Why,  Captain,  I  would  not  own  them  if  they 
refused.  They  are  too  high  minded  and  honor 
able  to  refuse  so  great  a  favor  upon  such  easy 
terms." 

"  Very  well.  George  Washington  Alexander  Au 
gustus  Glib:  Do  you  promise  me  here,  in  the  pres 
ence  of  your  "mother  and  Mrs.  Mitten,  that  if  I 
stop  this  prosecution,  so  that  it  shall  not  harm  you 
or  your  mother,  or  your  brothers,  that  you  will 
never  disturb  another  religious  meeting  while  you 
live,  either  by  mouth,  foot  or  hand,  inside  or  out 
side  of  the  house ;  and  that  you  will  show  no  rude 
ness,  in  any  form  or  way,  to  Parson  Turner,  at  any 
time  or  in  any  place?  Do  you?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Thomas  Jefferson  Napoleon  Bonaparte  Glib: 
Do  you  make  the  same  promise  that  your  brother 
has  just  made!" 

"Yes,  sir." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL     285 

"  Benjamin  Franklin  Pulaski  LaFayette  Glib: 
Do  you  make  the  same  promise? " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  remain  here  five  minutes,  and  if  in  that 
time  I  do  not  return,  you  may  be  certain  that  the 
matter  is  satisfactorily  settled."  So  saying  he 
retired. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Mitten,"  said  Mrs.  Glib,  "what  an 
excellent,  excellent  man  that  brother  of  yours  is. 
I  shall  love  him  as  long  as  I  live, " 

"  Brother  David  has  a  good  heart,  though  he  is 
sometimes  rough  in  his  manner.  Was  ever  a 
child  so  unfortunate  as  mine?  It  is  an  old  maxim 
that  one  had  better  be  born  lucky  than  rich,  and 
I  believe  it.  Brother  David  will  probably  settle 
the  suit;  but  who  is  to  wipe  out  the  stain  from  my 
child's  character?" 

"Dear  me,  Mrs.  Mitten,  the  thing  will  be  for 
gotten  in  a  week !  Everybody  knows  that  it  was 
but  a  childish  frolic,  that  nobody  but  old  Turner 
would  have  noticed;  and  I  shall  make  it  my 
business  to  give  him  my  mind  upon  it  very  freely, 
the  first  time  I  meet  him.  Tm  under  no  promise, 
if  my  children  are." 

"  I  cannot  blame  Parson  Turner,  Mrs.  Glib,  and 
I  hope  you  will  not. " 

The  five,  and  even  ten  minutes  rolled  away,  and. 


286  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Mr.  Thomson  not  returning,  Mrs.  Glib  moved  off 
with  her  sons,  looking  very  little  like  their  name 
sakes. 

Mrs.  Mitten  now  determined  to  keep  her  son  at 
home  of  nights;  she  therefore  charged  him,  "upon 
pain  of  her  sore  displeasure,"  not  to  leave  the  house 
at  night  without  her  permission.  William  prom 
ised  obedience,  of  course ;  and,  like  a  good  boy, 
kept  his  promise  for  two  nights  and  a  half  without 
ever  asking  leave  of  absence.  On  the  second  night 
she  seated  him  at  the  stand  to  read  to  her  and 
his  sisters.  He  had  proceeded  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  when  three  strange  whistles  were  heard  near 
the  house.  They  were  not  noticed  by  Mrs.  Mitten 
as  yet;  but  the  first  had  no  sooner  sounded  than 
William  began  to  read  horribly. 

"Now,  William,"  said  his  mother,  "you've  got 
tired  of  reading  already;  and  you're  trying  how 
bad  you  can  read,  that  I  may  make  you  stop!" 
"No,  I  declare  I  a'nt,  Ma." 
"  Well,  what  makes  you  blunder  and  halt  and 
miscall    words    so?     What    does    that    incessant 
whistling  mean?" 

"That's  the  way  the  boys  whistle  at  school/' 
said  William. 

"  How  do  they  do  it  ?  for  it  sounds  like  blowing 
in  large  phials." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL     287 

"  They  do  it  by  blowing  in  their  hands. " 

"What  are  they  blowing  about  here  for?  they 
never  did  it  before.  Go  out,  William,  and  beg 
them  to  desist." 

William  obeyed  promptly,  and  it  seemed  gladly. 
The  whistling  ceased  as  soon  as  he  went  out ;  and 
in  a  few  minutes  he  returned. 

"Who  are  they?"  enquired  Mrs.  Mitten. 

"A  parcel  of  school-boys,"  said  William,  "but 
they  said  they  wouldn't  whistle  about  the  house 
any  more. "  He  resumed  his  seat,  and  read  pretty 
well  until  his  mother  excused  him. 

The  next  evening  the  whistling  was  renewed; 
but  at  such  a  distance  from  the  house  as  to  attract 
the  attention  of  no  one ;  unless,  perchance  William 
from  the  events  of  the  preceding  night,  was  led 
to  notice  it. 

"Ma,"  said  he,  "mayn't  I  go  to  the  Juvenile 
Debating  Society  to-night?" 

"Certainly,  my  son;  but  come  home  as  soon  as 
the  Society  adjourns." 

He  set  out,  but  happening  to  fall  in  with  Ben 
and  Jeff  Glib,  by  the  way  (so  they  were  called  for 
short),  they  proposed  going  by  Squire  King's  gar 
den,  and  getting  a  few  June  apples.  Ben  said, 
"that  Lawyer  King  was  a  very  clever  man,  and 
didn't  care  who  took  his  apples  if  they  didn't 


288          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

break  his  trees,  and  only  took  what  they  wanted 
to  eat. "  Jeff  said  that  he  knew  "  that  to  be  a  fact ; 
for  he  heard  him  tell  William  Strain,  his  wife's 
little  brother,  that  very  day,  to  go  in  with  his 
playmates  and  eat  as  many  as  they  wanted,  but 
not  to  break  down  his  trees. " 

"  Well,  if  that's  the  case, "  said  William,  "  I'll  go ; 
but  I  wouldn't  steal  apples  for  anything  in  the 
world." 

"  Neither  would  I, "  said  Ben.  "  Law,  no !  Not 
for  the  world. " 

"Oh,  it's  nothing  like  stealing,"  said  Jeff. 
"  Sposen  you  was  to  lay  down  anything,  and  say 
you  didn't  care  who  took  it,  if  they  didn't  break 
it,  and  I  was  to  come  along  at  night,  and  take  it, 
and  not  break  it,  would  that  be  stealing?" 

"No,"  said  Ben,  "it's  no  more  stealing  than 
picking  up  a  chip. " 

William  had  attended  the  Juvenile  Debating 
Society  too  long  with  too  much  profit  not  to  feel 
the  full  force  of  Master  Glib's  logic,  and  conse 
quently  his  scruples  were  immediately  removed 
and  the  boys  proceeded  to  the  garden.  The  fence 
was  ascended,  and  they  were  soon  under  the  best 
apple  tree. 

"William,"  said  Ben  in  a  whisper,  "this  is  a 
good  place  to  learn  to  climb.  The  limbs  are  low 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    289 

and  I  can  push  you  up  to  them.  When  you  get 
in  the  tree,  shake  down  the  apples,  and  Brother 
Jeff  and  I  will  pick  'em  up ;  but  don't  shake  down 
more  than  we  can  eat ;  for  Mr.  King  wouldn't  like 
that,  and  I  should  hate  to  do  anything  he  don't 
like.  Don't  shake  hard.  The  best  way  is  to  get 
on  a  limb,  and  hit  a  little  stomp  with  your  heel, 
and  if  they  don't  come  stomp  a  little  harder. " 

Thus  instructed,  William,  with  Ben's  help, 
ascended  the  tree.  He  stamped  limb  after  limb 
until  he  thought  enough  had  fallen  to  satisfy  the 
company,  and  was  about  descending  when  Jeff 
said,  "  Don't  come  down  yit — we  an't  got  enough 
yit — I  can  eat  a  bosom  full.  Here,  go  out  upon 
this  limb  and  fetch  it  a  pretty  hard  stomp  or  two, 
and  that'll  do." 

William  went  out  on  the  limb  as  directed,  and  at 
the  first  stamp,  missing  the  limb,  he  fell,  and  broke 
his  arm  just  above  the  elbow.  His  pain  was  great, 
and  his  alarm  was  greater,  but  he  bore  them  with 
little  complaint  until  he  cleared  the  garden.  He 
then  broke  forth  in  heart-piercing  groans,  sobs, 
and  lamentations;  but  not  loud  enough  to 
disturb  any  of  the  villagers.  "  Oh,  my  arm  does 
hurt  me  so  bad!  Only  see  how  it  swings  about! 
Oh,  my  poor  dear  mother;  it  will  kill  her.  My 
Heavenly  Father,  forgive  me  this  one  time,  and 

19 


29o         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

I  never  will  do  the  like  again !  I  don't  want  you 
two  boys  to  go  home  with  me.  If  you  please, 
don't  go  home  with  me." 

His  cries  announced  his  coming  before  he  reached 
home;  for  they  became  louder  as  he  approached 
his  mother's  door.  His  sisters  flew  to  him,  and 
his  mother  rose  to  follow  them ;  but  her  strength 
failed  her  and  she  fell  back  in  her  chair.  They 
could  not  learn  the  cause  of  his  wailing  until  he 
entered  the  house ;  when,  advancing  to  his  mother, 
he  sobbed  out,  "  Oh,  my  dear  mother,  look  at  my 
arm!" 

"What,  is  it  broke?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  can't  move  it. " 

"  Oh,  my  God,  was  ever  a  child  doomed  to  such 
misfortunes!  Ann,  send  for  the  Doctor  immedi 
ately — I  have  not  strength  to  move.  Send  for 
Doctor  Hull  and  Doctor  Barden  both.'1 

The  doctors  came,  and  set  the  arm. 

Of  course  the  enquiry  was  from  all,  how  the  acci 
dent  happened. 

"I  was  going  to  the  Society,"  said  William, 
"and  was  standing  by  a  tree,  and  one  boy  said 
he'd  teach  me  to  climb,  and  he  pushed  me  up  the 
tree,  and  I  fell  down  and  broke  my  arm." 

We  will  not  detain  the  reader  with  the  many 
questions  which  this  explanation  provoked,  and 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    ,9t 

the  answers  to  them  which  William  gave.  Suffice 
it  to  say  that  Doctor  Hull  fetched  a  little  grunt  of 
equivocal  signification,  and  took  a  chew  of  tobacco 
upon  it,  with  as  little  interest  in  it  as  if  he  had  set 
a  thousand  arms  broken  in  this  way ;  but  Doctor 
Barden  was  as  particular  in  his  enquiries  into  the 
case,  as  though  he  meant  to  report  it  to  the  Phila 
delphia  Medical  Journal. 

The  next  morning  Squire  King  came  over  to 
enquire  "how  poor  little  William  was."  He 
expressed,  and  no  doubt  felt,  tender  sympathies 
for  the  boy;  but  any  one  to  have  marked  his  eye, 
would  have  supposed  that  his  sympathies  gathered 
about  William's  feet  rather  than  his  arm. 

This  might  be  accounted  for  without  discredit  to 
the  Squire's  heart ;  for  being  a  great  hunter,  he  had 
contracted  a  habit  of  examining  tracks,  and  track- 
makers,  which  beset  him  at  times,  and  sometimes 
upon  improper  occasions,  as  in  this  instance. 

"  William, "  said  the  Squire,  with  a  small  dash  of 
waggishness  in  his  tone  and  countenance  which 
Bill  seemed  to  think  very  ill-timed;  "was  it  a 
smooth-barked  tree,  or  a  rough-barked  tree?" 

"I— forgot,"  drawled  out  Bill  a  little  crustily. 

"  Did  you  get  up  to  the  limbs  before  you  fell,  or 
just  fall  from  the  body?" 

"  I— got  to  the  limbs—" 


292  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Did  you  take  off  your  shoes?" 

"No." 

"Aye,  that's  the  way  the  accident  happened. 
You  went  up  with  your  shoes  on.  You  should 
always  take  off  your  shoes  when  you  climb.  The 
Glib  boys,  who  are  the  best  climbers  I  know, 
always  take  off  their  shoes  and  stockings  both.  I 
hope,  my  son,  you  will  soon  be  well.  Mrs.  Mitten, 
if  there's  anything  that  I  have  that  can  minister 
to  William's  comfort,  it  is  at  your  service.  I 
have  some  very  fine  June  apples,  and  I  will  send 
him  over  some;  little  boys  commonly  like  such 
things." 

"Thank  you — thank  you  kindly,  Mr.  King.  I 
know  he  will  prize  them  very  highly.  William, 
have  you  no  thanks  to  give  Mr.  King  for  his  kind 
ness?"  Mr.  King  retired. 

"William,"  said  his  mother,  "it  seemed  to  me 
you  were  a  little  rude  to  Mr.  King. " 

"I  know  him,"  said  Bill  sulkily. 

"  Well,  you  know  a  most  excellent,  kind-hearted 


man." 


"  He's  always  poking  his  fun  at  people. " 
"I'm  sure  there  was  nothing  like  fun  in  what  he 
said  to  you.     It  was  all  tenderness  and  kindness. " 
William's  arm  kept  him,  for  the  most  part,  con 
fined  to  the  house  for  five  weeks  or  more,  during 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL     293 

which  time  he  was  quite  lucky,  for  nothing  hap 
pened  to  disturb  his  or  his  mother's  peace.  He 
had  been  so  long  kept  from  the  Juvenile  Debating 
Society  that  he  had  become  very  anxious  to  attend 
it;  and  his  mother's  consent  being  obtained,  he 
departed  once  more  for  the  arena  of  youthful 
polemics. 

He  did  not  return  until  the  family  retired  to 
rest;  and  in  passing  to  his  room  he  made  such  a 
noise  among  the  chairs,  as  to  wake  up  his  mother. 

"Is  that  you,  William?"  said  she. 

"Yes." 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  answer  your  mother?" 

"  Who  put  all  these  chairs  in  the  entry? " 

"There  are  no  more  there  than  are  always 
there." 

"It's  a  lie!" 

"0,  heavens,  my  child  is  deranged!  My  child, 
my  child!  That  arm,  that  arm!" 

Mrs.  Mitten  sprung  from  her  bed,  and  before  she 
even  lighted  a  candle  dispatched  a  servant  to 
Doctor  Hull  with  the  request  that  he  hurry  over 
immediately,  for  that  her  son  was  out  of  his  senses. 
She  had  hardly  got  a  light  and  a  loose  gown 
thrown  over  her  shoulders  before  the  doctor  was 
at  the  door.  They  met  in  the  entry,  just  as  Wil 
liam  had  come  the  fourth  time  to  a  chair  which 


294  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

had  been  heading  him  ever  since  he  entered  the 
house.  He  seized  it  (for  it  had  naturally  enough 
exhausted  his  patience)  and  slung  it  with  all  his 
might  as  far  as  he  could  send  it. 

"Oh,  Doctor!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mitten  in  the 
deepest  agony  of  mind,  "can  you  do  anything 
for  my  poor  unfortunate  boy?" 

"Oh,  yes,  ma'am — yes,  ma'am.  Don't  be 
alarmed.  I  pledge  myself  to  have  him  sound  and 
well  before  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

"Oh,  Doctor,  how  can  you  speak  so  confidently 
without  ever  feeling  the  child's  pulse." 

Just  here,  William,  having  got  hold  of  a  small 
table  that  stood  in  the  entry,  and  which  he  proba- 
ably  mistook  for  a  wash-basin,  poured  out  upon  it  a 
villainous  compound  of  heterogeneous  elements, 
which  it  would  have  required  a  stronger  head  and 
greater  capacity  than  Bill  possessed,  to  keep  to 
gether  in  peace  for  a  single  night. 

The  doctor  grunted,  as  usual ;  but  with  unusual 
indications  of  sympathy  for  Master  Mitten. 

"Why,  Doctor,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  the  good 
lady,  "that  I  smell  peach  brandy!" 

"  It  seems  so  to  me  too, "  said  the  doctor,  "  and 
segar  smoke  to  boot. " 

"  It's  a  lie, "  said  Bill.  "  He  tells  a  lie,  and  you 
tell  a  lie." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    295 

"Do  you  think  my  child  is  drunk,  Doctor?" 

"  No  doubt  of  it  in  the  world,  madam.  Nothing 
else  is  the  matter  with  him." 

"Then  my  fate  is  sealed.  I  am  doomed  to 
wretchedness  for  life."  And  she  sobbed  and 
shrieked  by  turns. 

"  Retire  to  your  room,  madam.  I  will  put  him 
to  bed,  and  stay  with  him  until  he  gets  sound 
asleep;  and  he  will  be  well  in  the  morning." 

She  did  so;  but  it  was  to  walk  her  room  in 
torture  through  the  live-long  night — not  to  sleep. 

It  was  late  in  the  morning  before  William  rose. 
He  had  learned  from  a  servant  all  that  passed  on 
the  preceding  evening;  and  it  was  an  hour  after 
he  rose  before  he  could  venture  from  his  room  to 
face  his  mother.  At  length  he  came,  and  mingled 
tears  of  contrition  with  her  tears  of  sorrow — 
confessed  his  fault  and  promised  never  to  smoke 
another  segar,  or  drink  another  drop  of  liquor, 
while  he  lived. 

In  the  main,  things  went  on  smoothly  and  hap 
pily  in  the  two  families  during  the  year,  but 
before  its  close  both  the  Captain  and  his  sister  had 
their  quiet  a  little  disturbed  by  William's  over- 
attention  to  Snapdragon,  a  beautiful  though 
gentle  horse  the  Captain  had  given  his  nephew 
for  good  conduct  and  as  a  relief  from  his  studies. 


296  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

It  was  natural  curiosity  that  prompted  him  to 
enquire  carefully  into  Snapdragon's  capabilities, 
accomplishments,  predilections  and  tractability. 
By  close  observation  and  experiment,  he  dis 
covered  that  a  little  needless  whipping  improved 
him  wonderfully  (such  the  difference  between  a 
teacher  and  a  disciple) .  It  made  him  move  airily, 
and  infused  life,  grace  and  activity  into  both  his 
extremities ;  that  he  could  trot  eight  miles  an  hour ; 
that  he  could  beat  Billy  Figg's  Nicktail,  Billy 
Pine's  Catham  and  Bob  Maston's  Flying  Nelly 
easily;  that  he  stood  the  firing  of  a  gun  on  him 
very  well;  that  he  could  clear  a  six-rail  fence  at 
a  leap;  that  by  tickling  him  in  a  particular  way 
in  the  flank  (which  he  called  the  "  grabble-tickle  ") 
he  could  make  him  kick  amusingly ;  that  by  apply 
ing  the  "grabble-tickle"  to  his  back  bone,  just 
behind  the  saddle,  he  could  carry  him  through 
a  variety  of  most  interesting  evolutions — tail- 
switching,  warping,  biting  (backwards,  at  nothing), 
polka  dancing  and  furious  kicking.  One  thing  he 
taught  him  which  was  perfectly  original,  and  that 
was  to  stop  at  the  cluck  or  chirp,  and  go  at  the  word 
"wo!"  To  teach  him  all  these  accomplishments 
William  had  to  devote  nearly  his  whole  time  to 
him.  He  had  to  ride  him  far  and  near,  and  in  so 
doing  it  was  just  as  well  to  call  and  see  all  the 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    297 

planters  within  seven  miles  of  the  village,  and  rest 
awhile  with  them,  and  entertain  them  with  all  the 
wonders  of  Doctor  Waddel's  school,  as  to  ride  that 
far  and  return  without  dismounting.  Every  gath 
ering  in  the  county  he  was  certain  to  attend,  by 
means  whereof  he  had  a  fine  opportunity  of  study 
ing  human  nature  in  some  of  its  most  interesting 
aspects.  He  saw  how  petty  elections  were  con 
ducted;  how  electioneering  was  carried  on;  how 
much  rum  it  took  to  elect  a  captain  and  a  justice 
of  the  peace.  He  saw  justice  administered  by 
magistrates  in  their  shirt  sleeves,  and  heard  stiff 
quarrels  between  them  and  the  suitors.  He  saw 
card-playing  in  its  most  unpretending  humility 
and  simplicity,  to  wit:  by  a  couple  of  the  sover 
eignty,  seated  cross-legged  on  the  ground,  with  a 
dirty  cotton  handkerchief  between  them  for  a 
table  and  a  half  deck  of  dirtier  cards.  (Here  was 
the  introduction  of  "squatter  sovereignty'1  into  the 
country;  but  who  could  have  supposed  that  it 
would  ever  make  such  a  fuss  in  the  world  as  it  has 
made!)  He  saw  cock  fights  occasionally,  dog 
fights  often,  and  men  fights  regularly;  now  and 
then  he  was  entertained  with  a  quarter  race  and 
a  foot  race.  Upon  one  occasion  he  took  up  a 
banter  of  "  the  universal  world"  for  a  foot  race,  by 
a  youth  both  older  and  larger  than  himself,  and 


298  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

gained  the  victory  handsomely.  His  competitor 
said  "if  he  couldn't  beat  him  a  running  he  could 
whip  him. "  Bill  "  pitched  into  him, "  as  the  say 
ing  is,  without  a  parley,  and  flogged  him  beauti 
fully,  and  to  the  delight  and  admiration  of  every 
body,  who  thought  it  mean  in  him  to  pick  a 
quarrel  with  a  boy  who  had  fairly  beaten  him, 
just  from  shame  of  his  defeat.  These  feats  gave 
William  great  renown  in  the  county.  Perhaps  no 
youth  in  the  land  ever  made  greater  progress  in 
"the  study  of  human  nature"  than  William  did 
in  the  short  space  of  two  months.  But  without 
Snapdragon  where  would  he  have  been?  Con 
fined  to  the  darkness  of  his  own  village !  And  who 
ever  heard  of  any  human  nature  in  a  village,  save 
at  court  times,  general  elections  and  general  par 
ades?  The  Captain  often  heard  of  his  progress, 
and  often  counseled  him.  "William,"  he  would 
say,  "I  fear  I  committed  a  great  error  in  giving 
you  that  horse ;  I  am  sure  I  did.  It  was  one  of  the 
most  imprudent  acts  of  my  life." 

"Why,  Uncle?" 

11  For  many  reasons.  He  takes  up  all  your  time. 
I  never  see  a  book  in  your  hand ;  you  have  hardly 
attended  a  religious  meeting,  except  on  Sunday, 
since  the  vacation  commenced.  You  are  too 
young  to  have  control  of  a  horse.  He  is  a  spirited 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    299 

horse,  and  if  not  managed  with  care  he  may  break 
your  neck — " 

" Uncle,  he  can't  throw  me  to  save  his  life." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that;  my  main  design  in 
giving  him  to  you  was  to  make  you  a  good  horse 
man;  but  he  may  run  away  with  you,  carry  you 
under  the  limb  of  a  tree,  and  knock  your  brains 
out.  If  you  will  be  careful  with  him  there  is  no 
danger,  for  I  know  him  to  be  a  very  gentle  horse, 
though  spirited — but  youths  of  your  age  are  so 
thoughtless.  I  hardly  ever  see  you  in  the  day 
time;  where  do  you  keep  yourself?" 

"Just  riding  about  in  the  country,  Uncle. " 

"  But  sometimes  you're  gone  the  live-long  day, 
and  surely  you  are  not  riding  all  the  time  without 
your  meals?" 

"Oh,  no,  sir!  Sometimes  I  take  dinner  at  Mr. 
Love's,  sometimes  at  Mr.  Tod's,  sometimes  at 
Squire  Mattox's,  sometimes  at  Mr.  White's,  and 
Curtis  King's—" 

"  Why,  William,  my  son,  you  ought  not  to  visit 
people's  houses  in  that  way — " 

"  Uncle,  they  always  tell  me  they  are  glad  to  see 
me,  and  always  beg  me  to  come  and  see  them 
again." 

"  To  be  sure  they  do ;  but  because  they  are  kind 
you  should  not  tax  their  hospitality  all  the  time. 


300         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

At  times,  I  am  sure  you  must  fall  upon  them  very 
unseasonably,  and  give  them  no  little  inconve 
nience.  When  they  see  you  in  town  here,  and  ask 
you  to  come  and  see  them,  why,  then  go ;  but  don't 
thrust  yourself  upon  them  at  all  hours,  uninvited." 

"I'll  obey  you,  Uncle." 

Again  the  Captain  would  renew  his  complaint 
and  advise : 

"  William,  your  mother  is  very  uneasy  about 
you.  She  says  you  constantly  come  home  charged 
with  news  from  all  the  gatherings  in  the  county. 
Surely,  you  don't  frequent  such  places?  What 
interest  can  you  take  in  them?  What  do  you 
promise  yourself  from  such  resorts?  I  charge 
you  under  pain  of  my  sore  displeasure  to  abandon 
them. " 

"I  will  do  so,  Uncle." 

A  little  after  this  time  the  Captain  informed 
William  over  night  that  he  wished  to  borrow 
Snapdragon  for  a  short  ride  the  next  morning,  as 
all  his  own  horses  were  in  use.  William  gave  a 
cordial  assent,  of  course.  "Send  Tom  over  with 
him  directly  after  breakfast;  I'm  only  going  to 
Doctor  Wingfield's,"  said  the  Captain. 

The  Captain  lived  on  the  street  that  led  directly 
to  Doctor  Wingfield's,  and  near  the  edge  of  the 
town.  As  William  had  never  seen  his  uncle  on 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL  301 

Snapdragon,  and  felt  a  deep  interest  in  his  per 
formance  under  the  saddle  of  his  kind  benefactor, 
he  took  his  position  in  the  inner  lock  of  a  fence  in 
the  street,  under  cover  of  some  high  weeds,  whence, 
with  a  little  change  of  position,  he  could  have  a 
full  view  of  the  Captain's  house  and  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  of  the  street  and  road  leading  from 
it.  Tom  got  to  the  house  with  Snapdragon  about 
the  time  that  William  got  comfortably  seated. 
Snap  was  soon  saddled,  and  the  Captain  was  nearly 
as  soon  by  his  side,  ready  to  mount  him,  Snap 
showing  signs  of  impatience  to  get  off. 

"What  makes  that  horse  do  so,  Tom?"  asked 
the  Captain.  "  I  don't  like  his  motions. " 

"He's  gentle,  Mas'  David,"  said  Tom.  "He 
only  do  so  till  you  start  him." 

The  Captain  placed  one  hand  on  Snap's  neck 
and  the  other  on  the  back  of  the  saddle  to  mount ; 
this  hand  happened  to  slip  and  fall  a  little  rudely 
on  Snap's  back.  Snap,  nothing  doubting  that 
this  was  the  beginning  of  the  "grabble  tickle," 
commenced  with  the  preliminaries  of  the  polka. 

"Why,  the  horse  is  ruined,"  said  the  Captain. 
"  I  wonder  he  hasn't  knocked  William's  brains  out 
long  ago." 

"Mas'  David,  I  tell  you  the'  an't  nothin'  the 
matter  with  him.  This  is  nothin'  but  some 


302         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

little  foolishness  Mas'  William  larn  him.  He's 
gentle." 

In  the  meantime  Bill  was  rolling  in  the  weeds 
"enthused"*  with  delight. 

The  Captain  made  a  second  attempt  and 
mounted. 

"Tom,  tell  your  mistress — Wo!"  said  he  to 
fidgeting  Snap,  and  away  went  Snap  "to  the  tune 
of  eight  miles  an  hour!"  "Wo!"  repeated  the 
Captain  more  emphatically,  and  Snap  put  off  at 
half  speed,  at  which  gait  he  passed  Bill  in  an  agony 
of  laughter.  The  Captain  immediately  conjec 
tured  that  Bill  had  been  running  Snap,  and  that 
the  horse  took  "wo"  for  "go!"  and  he  did  not 
repeat  the  word  again.  Snap  soon  became  paci 
fied,  and  the  Captain  brought  him  to  a  halt.  He 
studied  awhile  whether  it  would  be  best  for  him 
to  go  on  or  return.  He  concluded  he  would  try 
Snap  a  little  further  anyhow,  so  he  clucked  to  him 
to  proceed;  but,  so  far  from  proceeding,  Snap 
settled  himself  in  more  dignified  composure  than 
he  had  exhibited  during  the  whole  morning.  He 
clucked  again  with  no  better  success.  He  chirped, 
but  these  changes  of  note  operated  upon  Snap  like 
a  serenade. 

*This  word,  of  very  modern  coinage,  is  now  getting  into  pretty  general 
u§e  in  some  parts  of  the  country. 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL   303 

"  Why,  did  ever  anybody  see  such  a  fool  horse 
since  the  world  was  made?"  mused  the  Captain. 
"  What's  a  body  to  do  with  him?  How  is  he  to  be 
made  to  go  on  or  stop  ?  If  I  ever  give  another  chap 
a  fine  horse  he  may  give  me  a  thousand  lashes, 
and  I'll  thank  him  for  it.  It  certainly  was  the 
unluckiest  act  of  my  life  to  give  Bill  this  horse ! " 

Upon  the  whole,  the  Captain  concluded  it  would 
be  best  for  him  to  get  out  of  temptation  as  quick 
as  possible  by  returning  home.  Just  as  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  this  course,  Mr.  Foster  met 
him. 

"Good  morning,  Brother  Thomson,"  said 
Foster. 

"Good  morning,  Brother  Foster,"  said  Mr. 
Thomson. 

"Which  way  are  you  going?" 

"  I  was  going  to  Dr.  Wingneld's,  but  I've  got  on 
my  nephew's  horse,  which  the  boy  has  so  com 
pletely  spoiled  that  there  is  no  doing  anything 
with  him,  so  I'll  go  back  with  you." 

All  of  the  proceedings  up  to  this  moment  con 
vinced  Snapdragon  that  he  had  been  brought  out 
that  morning  for  no  other  purpose  in  the  world 
than  to  beat  Mr.  Foster's  horse  in  a  quarter  race. 
His  conjectures  were  fully  confirmed  when  in  an 
swer  to  Mr.  Foster's  question,  "  don't  you  own 


3o4         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

him?"  the  Captain,  as  he  paced  about,  answered 
emphatically  "No!" 

At  the  word,  Snap  dashed.  The  Captain  soon 
took  him  up,  and  waited  till  Brother  Foster  came 
up.  As  he  approached,  the  Captain  clucked  to 
Snap,  and  he  stopped  crustily. 

"Bless  your  soul,  honey,"  said  Brother  Foster, 
"that's  a  mighty  good  looking  horse,  but  he's  a 
mighty  foolish  one. " 

"  He  was  one  of  the  finest  horses  in  the  land — 
Wo/"  cried  the  Captain  (forgetting  himself)  to 
Snap,  in  rage  to  beat  Foster's  horse,  and  away  he 
dashed  again.  He  was  stopped  as  before. 

"  Why,  Brother  Thomson,  that  horse  seems  to 
go  when  he  ought  to  stop,  and  stop  when  he  ought 
to  go." 

"Exactly  so,"  said  the  Captain;  and  Snap 
bristled  considerably  at  the  last  word,  but  was 
chirped  to  halt  instantly. 

"  Why,  bless  your  soul,  honey,  I  never  did  see  a 
horse  take  on  after  that  sort  in  all  my  life.  I 
wouldn't  give  you  this  pipe  for  him  if  I  had  to 
ride  him." 

"No,"  said  the  Captain  (Snap  bristled),  "nor  I 
either." 

In  this  way,  between  stops  and  starts,  and 
sidles  and  snorts,  the  Captain  reached  home, 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    305 

greatly  to  his  delight  and  the  still  greater  delight 
of  William. 

The  lecture  he  gave  his  nephew  at  their  next 
meeting  we  leave  the  reader  to  conjecture. 

William's  victories  happened  to  be  reported  to 
the  Captain  by  Mr.  Moore  in  the  presence  of  Wil 
liam,  and  in  the  way  of  congratulation  to  him. 

"Why,  William,"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  "is it 
possible  that  you  have  been  running  foot  races  and 
fighting—" 

"Oh,  don't  blame  him,"  said  Mr.  Moore;  "I 
supposed  you  knew  all  about  it,  since  it  is  talked 
about  everywhere.  But  don't  blame  William, 
for  he  never  did  a  better  thing  in  all  his  life,  and 
never  will  do  a  better  while  he  lives.  He  was  at 
the  Court  at  old  man  Haralson's,  and  there  was 
an  uncommonly  large  gathering  for  the  occasion. 
There  was  a  fellow  there,  a  forward,  noisy  chap, 
named  Jake  Black,  who  was  cutting  up  high  shines. 
He  said  he  could  beat  anything  of  his  weight  and 
inches  in  the  universal  world  at  a  foot  race.  'I 
can  beat  you,'  said  William.  'You!'  says  Black, 
'I  can  run  round  you  three  times  in  fifty  yards  and 
then  beat  you.'  'Well,'  says  William,  'suppose 
you  try  it. '  The  match  was  made  up,  a  hundred 
yards  was  stepped  off,  and  all  on  the  Court  ground 
went  to  see  the  race.  At  the  word  they  started, 

20 


3o6         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

and  William  beat  him  a  clear  light  of  at  least  seven 
yards.  There  was  a  general  shout  as  they  came 
in,  and  many  had  something  digging  to  say  to 
Black.  One  told  him  he  oughtn't  to  run  against 
anything  but  grub -worms  and  terrapins.  An 
other  told  him  his  belly  didn't  give  his  legs  fair 
play.  '  I  saw  your  thighs, '  says  he,  '  hit  your  belly 
every  step  you  made.  If  you  can  only  manage 
to  hook  up  your  belly  just  three-quarters  of  an 
inch  before  you  run,  so  as  to  give  your  legs  full 
sweep,  you'd  beat  Bill  Mitten  thirty  yards  in  the 
hundred,  I  know  you  would. '  'Oh/  says  a  third, 
1  his  stomach  had  nothing  to  do  with  it — at  least  it 
wouldn't  have  had,  if  he  had  been  in  good  keep; 
but  he  was  in  no  order  to  run.  I  saw  him  eat  two 
millions  and  a  peck  of  peaches  not  an  hour  before 
the  race.  Take  that  weight  off  him,  and  where 
would  Bill  Mitten  have  been?'  'Well,'  said  the 
second,  '  that's  just  what  I  say.  He  only  lacks 
three-quarters  of  an  inch  of  beating  'the  universal 
world;'  I  thought  his  belly  was  natural!' 

"This  kind  of  chat,"  continued  Moore,  "made 
Jake  very  mad,  and  as  William  stood  laughing  with 
the  rest,  Jake  stepped  up  to  him  and  said,  'If  you 
can  beat  me  running  I  can  whip  you  mighty  easy. ' 
You  know  that  hard  place  in  the  road  between  old 
man  Haralson's  house  and  the  Court  room?  He 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    307 

was  standing  there,  and  the  words  was  no  sooner 
out  of  his  mouth  when  William  seized  him,  fetched 
the  hip-lock  upon  him,  and  gave  him  the  hardest 
fall  that  I  ever  saw  a  boy  get  in  all  my  life.  Before 
Jake  could  recover  from  his  fall,  William  was  on 
him,  giving  him  bringer.  He  very  soon  'told  the 
news '  (cried  'enough ! ') ,  and  William  got  off  of  him 
without  a  scratch.  I  don't  suppose  there  ever 
was  a  people  more  rejoiced  and  surprised  than  they 
all  were  at  William's  doings.  Jake  had  no  idea 
that  a  boy  dressed  as  fine  as  William  was  could 
fight  at  all,  nor  did  anybody  else  believe  it.  But, 
Lord  bless  your  soul,  Captain,  he  walked  over 
Jake  in  the  highest  style  of  fighting!  I  tell  you 
what,  sir,  he's  as  active  as  a  cat  and  as  bold  as  a 
lion.  So  you  see  he  was  not  to  blame." 

And  now  came  "the  tug  of  war"  (intestine  war) 
with  the  Captain.  Before  Moore  had  proceeded 
four  sentences  in  his  narrative,  Captain  Thom 
son's  countenance  lost  every  trace  of  amazement 
and  indignation,  and  assumed  a  rather  unchristian 
placidity.  The  next  transition  was  to  a  benig 
nant  smile ;  then  to  an  expression  of  wonder  and 
delight,  then  to  a  laugh  of  triumph ;  and  so  it  went 
on,  stronger  and  stronger,  to  the  end  of  the 
chapter;  so  that  when  Moore  concluded  it  was 
manifest  that  "brother"  Thomson  had  no  more 


3o8         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

thought  of  religion  in  him  than  he  had  of  the 
tattling  of  his  countenance ;  and  no  more  thought 
of  the  tattling  of  his  countenance  than  if  he  had 
been  all  the  time  in  profound  sleep.  But  the  time 
had  come  for  him  to  speak,  and  what  could  he  say? 
Bill  had  followed  his  counsels  to  the  letter,  and  had 
exhibited  the  very  fruits  from  them  that  he  had 
anticipated  and  desired.  Should  he  now  rebuke 
him?  That  would  not  do.  Should  he  applaud 
his  conduct?  That  would  not  do  from  a  Christian. 
Should  he  remain  silent?  That  would  be  a  tacit 
sanction  of  all  that  William  had  done.  But  say 
something  he  must,  and  that  something  must  be 
extemporized;  so  he  began,  in  a  very  cool  tone, 
that  might  be  taken  for  the  composure  of  religion 
or  the  composure  of  gratification: 

"Why,  William,  I'm  astonished  at  you?" 

Very  true,  but  very  equivocal. 

"  I  don't  think,  in  any  view'o^  the  case,  that  his 
saying  simply  that  he  could  whip  you,  justified  you 
in  attacking  him — " 

"But,  Uncle,  I  saw  that  he  was  mad,  and  bent 
upon  picking  a  quarrel  with  me,  or  hacking  me 
before  all  the  company,  and  I  thought  that  as  I 
would  have  to  fight  or  back  out,  I'd  best  take  a 
running  start  on  him ;  for  the  first  blow  in  a  fight 
is  half  the  battle,  they  say. " 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    309 

"Well,  that  is  true — that  is — arguing  upon 
worldly  principles;  and  supposing  fighting  in  any 
case  to  be  justifiable;  for  by  that  course  you 

are  certain  to  get    some    advan .     However, 

worldly  principles  are  not  always  to  be  trusted; 
indeed,  never  to  be  trusted  when  they  come  in 
conflict  with  religious  principles.  The  longer 
I  live  in  the  world,  the  more  dissatisfied  I  become 
with  its  ways  and  notions.  Four  or  five  months 
ago  I  would  have  given  advice  that  I  would  not 
now  give — at  least  without  very  considerable 
qualifications.  Vigor  of  body,  strength  of  consti 
tution,  unflinching  courage — moral  courage — are 
certainly  great  things — great  things  in  many 
points  of  view — but  then,  like  all  good  gifts,  they 
may  be  abused.  And  here,  William,  let  me  give 
you  a  caution.  You  have  a  very  good  apology 
(our  friend  Moore  thinks)  for  engaging  in  those 
contests  with  Black.  Now,  take  care  that  your 
victories  over  him  do  not  lead  you  to  seek  contests 
merely  to  show  your  prowess — merely  for  the 
praise  of  victory  and  the  terror  of  your  com 
panions.  Oh!  of  all  the  disgusting  things  in  this 
world,  a  mere  bully — a  man  who  forces  his  fellow 
being  into  a  fight  with  him  merely  for  the  vile 
fame  of  whipping  him,  is  the  most  disgusting.  I 
have  seen  such  men,  and  I  have  despised  them. 


3io  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

They  pretend  to  take  as  insults  what  they  know 
was  meant  in  friendship  or  in  fun.  They  wantonly 
assail  feelings,  play  insufferable  pranks  with  men, 
and  then  assail  them  for  speaking  harshly  of  what 
they  say  they  meant  as  innocent  sport.  They 
take  occasion  from  a  man's  dress,  his  features,  his 
person,  his  carriage,  to  worry  him  into  resistance 
of  some  kind,  and  then  flog  him  for  resisting. 
Can  anything  better  mark  a  devil  than  such  con 
duct  as  this?  Now,  William,  I  don't  blame  you 
for  fighting  (that  is,  upon  worldly  principles)  under 
the  circumstances;  but  I  do  blame  you  for  going 
to  such  places — not  for  going  to  Mr.  Haralson's, 
for  he  is  a  very  worthy  man,  and  has  a  very  worthy 
family,  but  for  going  there  in  Court  times.  I 
have  been  there  often  and  I  don't  remember  ever 
to  have  seen  one  of  his  sons  in  the  crowd  of  Court 
days  in  my  life.  And  I  blame  you  for  running  a 
race  at  such  a  time  and  place." 

Now  if  the  reader  can  extract  from  this  long 
harangue  what  were  the  Captain's  views  of  the  case 
of  Mitten  vs.  Black,  upon  Christian  principles,  he 
is  certainly  much  wiser  than  the  writer.  Whether 
it  was  becoming  in  him  to  discuss  the  case  so 
generally  upon  "worldly  principles,"  without 
drawing  a  line  of  distinction  between  them  and 
Christian  principles — whether  it  was  right  in  him 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    3n 

to  say  what  he  would  have  advised  four  or  five 
months  ago,  that  he  would  not  now  without  any 
specifications  that  might  enlighten  his  nephew  as 
to  whether  he  meant  to  take  back  any  of  his 
counsels  upon  universal  excellence,  are  questions 
which  we  will  not  undertake  to  settle.  But  we  will 
venture  to  say  that  Master  Mitten  inferred  from 
it  that  the  Captain  was  highly  delighted  (but 
of  course  only  on  worldly  principles)  with  his 
achievements,  and  that  he  need  never  fear  the 
Captain's  wrath  for  fighting,  provided  he 
would  always  fight  at  the  right  time,  in  the  right 
place,  and  for  good  reasons  in  Mr.  Moore's 
judgment. 

In  the  course  of  his  observations  Master  Mitten 
discovered  two  other  things  through  the  aid  of 
Snapdragon,  which  we  must  not  omit  to  mention. 
The  one  was,  that  six  or  seven  months'  absti 
nence  from  strong  drink  had  not  entirely  abated 
his  relish  for  it ;  and  the  other  was  that  the  squat 
ter  sovereigns  committed  many  errors  in  their 
games  that  he  could  have  rectified  with  success. 
It  was  the  custom  of  not  a  few  heads  of  families 
at  this  time  to  make  up  a  mint-julep  of  peach  or 
apple  brandy  every  morning,  and  to  give  a  little 
to  every  member  of  the  family,  old  and  young, 
blacks  excepted.  It  was  a  much  more  invariable 


3i2         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

custom  to  make  a  large  bowl  of  egg-nogg  every 
Christmas,  of  which  the  whole  family  were  ex 
pected  to  take  a  little  more  freely,  and  it  was  con 
sidered  rather  a  laughing  than  a  serious  matter  if 
some  of  the  children  got  intoxicated.  No  one 
ever  entered  a  house  to  tarry  for  a  half  hour  with 
out  being  asked  "to  take  something  to  drink," 
and  with  the  plainer  people  of  the  country  this 
invitation  was  extended  to  boys  hardly  in  their 
teens,  and  was  accepted  without  exciting  any 
surprise.  Not  many  years  before  the  times  of 
which  we  are  speaking,  probably  down  to  the  very 
times,  a  still  more  remarkable  custom  prevailed 
among  some,  if  not  all,  Methodist  preachers,  which 
was  to  ask  a  blessing  upon  every  glass  of  toddy 
they  took.  Should  this  statement  be  questioned, 
we  have  authority  for  it,  at  hand,  which  no  man 
in  Georgia  will  question.  How  this  custom  orig 
inated  it  is  easy  to  define.  The  discipline  of  the 
Methodist  Church  enjoined  upon  its  members  to 
do  nothing  upon  which  they  could  not  invoke 
God's  blessing,  and  as  they  never  dreamed  that 
there  was  anything  sinful  in  taking  a  glass  of  toddy, 
or  as  it  was  more  commonly  called,  a  little  sweet 
ened  dram,  they  "said  grace  over  it." 

While  such  customs  were  rife  in  the  country,  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  Master  Mitten  had 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  SCHOOL    313 

frequent  opportunities  of  indulging  his  early 
formed  relish  for  ardent  spirits,  even  without  the 
help  of  Snapdragon — with  his  help  they  were 
quintupled.  He,  however,  took  care  never  to 
appear  at  home,  or  in  the  presence  of  his  uncle, 
"disguised  with  liquor.1'  But  as  the  Captain  saw 
that  he  was  doing  no  good,  he  feared  that  he  was 
doing  much  harm,  and  he  rejoiced  greatly  when 
the  time  arrived  for  his  return  to  school. 


-      XI. 
WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE 

After  a  year  or  more  of  varying  success  and 
brilliancy  in  his  studies  under  a  private  teacher 
and  then  off  at  Dr.  Waddel's  School  in  South 
Carolina,  just  before  Captain  Thomson's  last 
sickness,  it  was  arranged  that  William  Mitten 
should  accompany  his  cousin,  David  Thomson, 
and  George  Markham  for  Princeton  College,  New 
Jersey. 

Princeton  was  at  that  time,  in  the  South  at 
least,  the  most  renowned  College  in  the  Union. 
Captain  Thomson  appointed  Mr.  Markham  one 
of  the  executors  of  his  will,  and  authorized  him 
to  appropriate  any  sum  out  of  his  estate  that  he 
might  deem  necessary  to  the  education  of  John 
Brown  also,  not  exceeding  one  hundred  dollars 
per  annum,  Mr.  Markham  and  other  parties  having 
agreed  to  contribute  the  balance  needed  to  edacate 
the  struggling  but  deserving  student. 

"If,"  said  Mr.  Markham,  "William  will  apply 
himself  closely  to  the  study  of  Greek  and  Mathe 
matics  (the  only  studies  in  which  he  is  lacking) 
he  will  be  able  to  enter  the  Freshman  class. " 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  315 

The  proposition  was  readily  embraced  by  mother 
and  son,  and  while  she  commenced  his  outfit  for 
the  journey  he  commenced  the  study  of  Greek 
assiduously. 

Everything  being  ready,  and  time  for  departure, 
the  boys,  after  much  good  advice,  and  many 
tearful  farewells,  set  out  on  their  journey  to  the 
North. 

Three  days  staging  brought  them  to  Savannah, 
and  an  eight-day  voyage  landed  them  in  New 
York.  On  board  ship  they  were  all  very  seasick. 
After  being  shown  over  New  York  they  departed 
for  College.  Markham,  Thomson  and  Brown 
entered  the  Sophomore  class  without  difficulty, 
but  it  was  exceedingly  mortifying  to  William  to 
find  himself  obliged  to  enter  the  Freshman. 

Instead  of  presenting  his  certificate  to  the  Presi 
dent,  and  making  application  for  admission  into 
the  Freshman  class,  he  excogitated  a  brilliant 
scheme,  not  altogether  original,  to  be  sure,  but 
highly  creditable  to  his  ingenuity,  whereby  he  was 
to  get  into  the  Sophomore  class  without  the  need 
ful  preparation  for  it.  Thus  thought  our  hero: 

"  If  I  apply  for  the  Junior  class,  they  will  have 
too  much  respect  for  my  feelings  to  put  me  away 
down  in  the  Freshman  class,  if  they  can  possibly 
avoid  it.  Even  for  the  Junior  class,  they  will,  in 


3i6         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

all  probability,  examine  me  upon  those  studies 
which  I  have  been  over,  and  here  I  shall  acquit 
myself  so  handsomely,  that  they  will  readily  com 
promise  matters,  and  let  me  into  the  Sophomore 
class."  Accordingly  he  reported  himself  to  the 
President  with  an  air  of  great  self-possession,  as  a 
candidate  for  the  Junior  class.  The  President, 
after  gravely  taking  his  dimensions  with  the  eye, 
to  the  manifest  terror  of  Master  Mitten,  said: 
"The  Junior  class,  now  more  than  half  advanced! 
How  far  have  you  advanced  in  Latin  and  Greek? " 
William  answered.  "  In  Mathematics?"  He  an 
swered  again.  "Have  you  studied  Chemistry, 
Astronomy,  Natural  and  Moral  Philosophy  and 
Logic?"  "No,  sir!"  "Under  whom  did  you  pre 
pare  for  college? "  "  Mr.  Waddel  and  Mr.  Finley. " 
"Mr.  Waddel,  of  South  Carolina,  and  Mr.  Finley, 
of  Basken  Ridge? "  "  Yes,  sir. "  "  We  have  four 
students  now  in  college,  from  Mr.  Waddel' s  school, 
and  ten  from  Mr.  Finley' s,  all  of  whom  entered 
without  difficulty.  Did  either  of  your  preceptors 
advise  you  to  apply  for  the  Junior  class?"  " No, 
sir,  but  I  thought  maybe  I  could  enter  that  class." 
1  Well,  Master  Mitten,  7  think,  maybe  you  can 
enter  no  class  in  college.  I  will  give  you  a  trial, 
however,  for  the  Freshman  class,  if  you  can  bring 
down  your  aspirations  that  low."  "Well,  sir," 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  317 

said  William,  with  a  spirit  of  accommodation 
truly  commendable,  "  I'll  try  for  that  class. " 
Here  William's  usual  bad  hick  attended  him,  for  his 
ingenuity  had  exposed  him  to  agonizing  mortifica 
tion,  betrayed  him  into  a  falsehood,  and,  as  he  well 
knew,  made  the  President's  first  impressions  of 
him  very  unfavorable. 

He  was  examined  and  admitted  without  diffi 
culty.  The  President  was  curious  to  learn  what 
sort  of  an  examination  he  stood,  and  enquired  of 
the  examining  professors.  "Admirable,"  said 
they,  una  voce.  The  President  smiled,  but  said 
nothing. 

William  followed  Mr.  Markham's  advice  strictly 
through  the  Freshman  year,  and  for  four  months  of 
the  Sophomore  year,  and  the  consequence  was  as 
usual:  he  stood  at  the  head  of  the  class.  His 
letters  to  his  mother  were  in  the  highest  degree 
gratifying.  He  spoke  gratefully  of  Mr.  Mark- 
ham's  last  counsels  to  him,  and  promised  to  obey 
them  to  the  letter;  he  expressed  his  admiration 
of  the  Faculty,  particularly  of  those  members 
of  it  who  had  charge  of  his  class,  in  terms  border 
ing  upon  the  extravagance  of  praise — rejoiced  that 
he  had  been  defeated  in  his  attempt  to  procure 
a  clerkship;  and  rejoiced  still  more  that  he  now 
saw  the  error  of  his  ways,  and  had  radically  re- 


3i8         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

formed.     One  of  his  epistles  he  concluded  in  this 
language : 

"When  I  think,  my  dearest  mother,  of  the 
trouble  I  have  given  you — how  I  abused  your  good 
ness,  and  disappointed  your  reasonable  expecta 
tions,  my  conscience  smites  me,  and  my  cheeks 
burn  with  blushes.  How  could  I  have  been 
such  an  ingrate!  How  could  I  have  sent  a 
pang  to  the  bosom  of  the  sweetest,  the  kindest, 
the  tenderest,  the  holiest,  the  best  of  mothers! 
Well,  the  past  is  gone,  and  with  it  my  childish, 
boyish  follies:  they  have  all  been  forgiven  long 
ago,  and  no  more  are  to  be  forgiven  in  future. 
That  I  am  to  get  the  first  honor  in  my  class  is 
conceded  by  all  the  class  except  four.  These  four 
were  considered  equal  competitors  for  it  until  I 
entered  the  class,  and  they  do  not  despair  yet; 
but  they  had  as  well,  for  they  equal  me  in  nothing 
but  mathematics,  and  do  not  excel  me  in  that. 
The  funds  that  you  allow  me  ($500  per  annum) 
are  more  than  sufficient  to  meet  all  my  college 
expenses,  and  allow  me  occasional  pleasure 
rambles  during  the  vacation.  What  I  have  writ 
ten  about  my  stand  in  college,  you  will  of  course 
understand  as  intended  only  for  a  mother's  eye. 

"Your  truly  affectionate  and  grateful  son, 

.  MITTEN." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  319 

William's  report  of  himself  was  fully  confirmed 
by  his  fellow-students  of  the  village.  He  wrote 
also  an  affectionate  letter  to  Doctor  Waddel, 
thanking  him  for  his  many  kindnesses,  approving 
of  all  his  dealings  with  him,  and  censuring  himself 
for  the  rejection  of  his  counsels,  and  disobedience 
to  his  rules.  Before  this  letter  reached  his  old 
preceptor,  William's  fame  and  prospects  in  college 
had  reached  the  school,  where  all  considered  them 
selves  interested  in  his  reputation,  and  all  rejoiced. 
At  his  home  the  rejoicing  was  more  intense,  and  all 
the  merchants  of  the  place,  and  Mr.  Sanders  in 
particular,  congratulated  themselves  that  they  had 
offered  him  no  encouragement  to  become  a  mer 
chant.  There  was  one  exception,  to  be  sure,  to 
the  general  rejoicing,  in  the  person  of  old  Stewey 
Anderson;  and  he  only  suspended  his  joy;  for  he 
offered  "to  give  his  promissory  note,  payable 
twelve  months  after  date,  for  double  joy,  if  Bill 
Mitten  held  on  that  long." 

"  Billy, "  said  Stewey,  "  is  a  Belair  colt ;  he  beats 
everything  for  a  quarter,  but  he  can't  stand  a  long 
run,  I'm  afraid;  he's  entered  now  for  the  four  mile 
heats,  and  I  think  he'll  break  down  about  the 
second  or  third  mile,  sure."  There  was  some 
thing,  too,  that  chilled  the  ardor  of  Dr.  Hull's 
delight,  though  no  one  knew  what  it  was.  But 


320         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

that  he  partook  of  the  general  feeling  to  some 
extent,  was  manifest;  for  he  never  took  a  chew 
of  tobacco  and  grunted  when  William  was 
praised. 

Up  to  the  close  of  the  fourth  month  of  Master 
Mitten's  Sophomore  year,  he  had  almost  entirely 
neglected  Mr.  Markham's  advice  touching  his 
recreation  hours;  indeed,  he  hardly  allowed  him 
self  any  recreation  hours;  but  occasional  visits 
to  a  beautiful  little  Princeton  lassie,  by  the  name 
of  Amanda  Ward,  reminded  him  forcibly  of  his 
remissness  in  this  particular,  and  he  resolved 
forthwith  to  amend  his  ways.  Miss  Ward  was  not 
pious,  but  she  was  sprightly,  witty  and  graceful; 
and  for  her  age  (she  had  hardly  "entered  her 
teens,")  she  was  not  wanting  in  intellectual  cul 
ture.  William's  interest  in  her  increased  with 
every  visit  to  her,  and  his  "recreation  hours" 
began  to  increase  with  his  interest.  The  neces 
sary  consequence  was,  that  his  study  hours  became 
more  arduous.  Still  he  maintained  his  reputation 
and  his  place  in  his  class,  with  only  a  hardly  per 
ceptible  change,  in  the  promptness  and  fluency 
with  which  he  disposed  of  his  recitations.  Soon 
after  his  first  visit  to  Miss  Amanda,  William's 
talents  were  made  known  to  her,  as  well  as  his 
fortune,  which  was  represented  to  be  something 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  321 

under  the  square  of  what  it  really  was.  She  was 
quite  too  young  and  too  romantic  to  have  any 
thing  venal  in  her  composition,  and  as  his  hand 
some  person,  brilliant  talents  and  interesting 
conversation  began  to  win  upon  her  affections, 
she  became  touchingly  pensive.  By  as  much  as 
she  lost  her  vivacity,  by  so  much  did  William's 
interest  in  her  increase.  He  loved  her  before, 
and  now  he  sympathized  with  her  deeply  and  ten 
derly.  It  was  a  floating  sympathy,  to  be  sure, 
seeking  like  Noah's  dove,  a  resting  place  and  find 
ing  none ;  but  it  was  none  the  less  sincere  on  that 
account,  and  none  the  less  appreciated  by  the 
lovely  object  over  which  it  hovered,  and  diffused 
its  grateful  incense.  Often  from  the  gloom  which 
overshadowed  the  dear  Amanda,  would  she  send 
forth  mellow  twinklings,  like  those  which  sport 
upon  the  bosom  of  an  evening  cloud,  and  which 
would  irradiate  the  countenance  of  her  anxious 
friend  for  a  moment;  but  he  could  not  persuade 
her  to  reveal  the  cause  of  her  depression. 

Under  the  combined  force  of  love,  sympathy, 
anxiety  and  suspense,  William's  spirits  forsook 
him,  he  became  sad  and  gloomy,  and  study  became 
irksome  to  him.  Late  sittings  with  Miss  Amanda, 
and  then  much  later  sittings  to  make  up  the  lost 
time,  began  to  make  inroads  upon  William's 


322         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

health,  and  all  his  fair  prospects  would  probably 
have  been  blighted  before  the  close  of  the  term, 
had  he  not  determined  to  act  upon  conjecture 
as  to  Miss  Ward's  anguish  of  mind.  He  judged, 
not  without  good  reason,  that  it  proceeded  from 
love  to  him,  and  that  she  was  wasting  away  under 
the  consuming  passion,  because  she  supposed 
that  it  was  not  reciprocated.  He  resolved,  there 
fore,  with  becoming  frankness  to  unbosom  him 
self  to  her  and  offer  her  his  hand.  Accordingly, 
at  their  next  interview,  he  thus  addressed  her: 

"Miss  Ward,  you  know  that  I  am  not  blind  to 
your  despondency,  and,  by  a  thousand  proofs,  you 
know  that  I  am  not  indifferent  to  it.  Believe  me, 
that  my  oft  repeated  enquiries  into  the  cause  of  it 
were  prompted  by  a  purer  and  holier  motive  than 
mere  idle  curiosity.  No,  Miss  Ward,  the  heart 
which  is  not  touched  with  the  griefs  of  the  gentler 
sex,  must  be  insensible  indeed ;  such  an  one,  I  am 
sure,  was  never  reared  in  the  genial  clime  of  the 
Sunny  South.  He  who  could  obtrude  a  selfish 
curiosity  into  the  hallowed  sanctuary  of  woman's 
sorrows,  never  breathed  the  balmy  zephyrs  which 
waft  the  odors  of  the  magnolia  and  the  orange. 
'Twas  sympathy,  Miss  Ward,  which  prompted 
my  questions — an  honest  desire  to  share  your 
griefs,  if  I  could  not  relieve  them.  Your  generous 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  323 

nature  will  appreciate  my  motives,  and  pardon 
one  more  question — the  last,  if  answered  nega 
tively:  Am  I  in  any  way,  directly  or  indirectly, 
connected  with  your  mental  perturbations?" 

Torrents  of  tears  from  the  eyes  of  the  fair 
Amanda  relieved  her  gallant  suitor's  suspense, 
while  she  struggled  for  utterance  with  her  irre 
pressible  emotions.  At  length  she  spoke: 

"Mister  Mitten,  your  noble  nature  assures  me 
that  I  may  trust  the  dearest  secret  of  my  heart  to 
you,  without  fear  that  you  will  ever  betray  the 
trust,  under  any  changes  of  feeling,  time  or  place. 
I  frankly  own  that  I  am  and  have  long  been  most 
ardently  attached  to  you.  I  have  sometimes 
thought — hoped — that  our  attachment  was  mu 
tual.  Yet  why  did  I  hope  it?  When  I  knew  that 
we  never  could  be  united?" 

"Knew  that  we  could  never  be  united,  my 
dearest  Amanda?" 

"Never,  never,  never!"  exclaimed  Amanda, 
burying  her  face  in  her  handkerchief,  and  sobbing 
convulsively. 

"Then  I  am  doomed  to  wretchedness  for  life!" 
ejaculated  Mister  Mitten.  "Amanda,  you  are 
my  first  love — " 

"And  you  are  mine,  William.  My  first,  my 
last,  my  only  love.  When  you  return  to  the  land 


324          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

of  birds  and  of  flowers,  object  of  my  adoration, 
send  back  a  thought  to  your  poor,  unfortunate, 
heart-broken  Amanda. " 

"Amanda,"  said  William,  in  tears,  "you  said 
you  would  entrust  the  dearest  secret  of  your  heart 
to  me:  tell  me  then  what  insuperable  obstacle 
there  is  to  our  union?" 

"  I  never  violate  my  promise,  dearest  William, 
I  am  told  that  you  are  very,  very  rich ;  and  never 
can  I  consent  to  marry  a  man  with  whom  I  cannot 
be  upon  an  equality — a  man  who  must  ever  feel 
that  he  stooped  to  take  his  partner's  hand;  and 
who  may  suppose  that  the  poor  trash  of  earth, 
called  wealth,  had  some  influence  upon  her  choice. 
I  should  be  the  most  miserable  wretch  upon  earth, 
to  discover  in  the  being  I  adore  anything  going 
to  show  that  he  considered  me  his  inferior,  or 
capable  of  loving  him  for  anything  but  himself." 

"These  noble  sentiments,"  responded  Mister 
Mitten,  "exalt  you  higher,  if  possible,  in  my 
estimation  than  ever.  Know,  then,  thou  sweetest, 
purest,  noblest  of  thy  sex,  that  I  am  not  rich — " 

"  Not  rich?  Don't  trifle  with  my  feelings,  Wil 
liam!" 

"  I  assure  you,  upon  the  honor  of  a  gentleman, 
that  I  am  worth  nothing.  My  mother  owns  a  very 
pretty  estate,  which,  when  divided  between  her 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  325 

three  children,  will  give  only  a  comfortable  living 
to  each  of  them. " 

"  Oh,  happiest  moment  of  my  life!' *  exclaimed 
Amanda.  "  William,  there  is  my  hand,  and  with  it 
a  heart  that  idolizes  you,  if  you  choose  to  take 
them." 

"  I  receive  them, "  said  William,  "  and  exchange 
for  them  a  hand  and  heart  equally  warm  and 
unwavering." 

Their  vows  were  plighted,  and  they  separated  in 
ecstasies. 

Fortunately  for  William  this  interview  occurred 
on  Friday  night;  or  it  would  have  played  the 
mischief  with  his  next  day's  recitation. 

The  next  day  William  visited  Miss  Amanda 
to  arrange  for  the  nuptials ;  and  however  indis 
creet  and  rash  we  may  consider  the  engagement, 
everybody  must  accord  to  them  the  highest  pru 
dence  in  settling  the  preliminaries  of  the  nuptials. 

The  arrangement  was  that  Mister  Mitten  (so  we 
must  now  call  him,  as  he  is  engaged  to  be  married) 
should  go  on  and  complete  his  education,  return  to 
Georgia  and  spend  two  or  three  months  with  his 
family,  then  go  to  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  and 
attend  Judge  Reeves'  Law  Lectures  for  one  year, 
revisit  Georgia,  get  admitted  to  the  bar  as  soon 
as  possible,  return  to  Princeton,  and  consummate 


326         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

the  marriage.  Could  old  Parr  himself,  and  a  lady 
his  equal  in  years,  have  ordered  things  more 
wisely!  As  soon  as  matters  were  thus  happily 
arranged,  Mr.  Mitten  said : 

" 1  have  reflected  a  great  deal,  my  dear  Amanda, 
upon  matrimonial  engagements,  and  I  have 
brought  my  mind  to  the  conclusion  long  ago,  that 
there  is  a  radical  error  in  regard  to  them,  too  com 
mon  in  the  world.  Let  us  reform  it — at  least  as 
far  as  we  can.  I  allude  to  the  secrecy  with  which 
such  engagements  are  kept  by  the  parties  to 
them—" 

Miss  Amanda  started.  "Why,  if  the  parties 
are  sincere  and  mean  to  be  constant  to  each  other, 
should  they  object  to  the  world's  knowing  of  their 
engagement?  Were  it  generally  known  how  few 
matches  would  be  broken  off!  What  man  of 
honor  would  pay  his  addresses  to  a  lady  whom 
he  knew  to  be  pledged  to  another !  What  woman 
of  honor  would  receive  the  addresses  of  a  man 
whom  she  knew  to  be  engaged!  For  my  part,  I 
shall  make  no  secret  of  our  engagement,  and  then 
if  any  man  dare  to  pay  you  particular  attention,  I 
shall  hold  him  personally  responsible — " 

"  Oh,  William,  my  dearest  William,  do  not  think 
of  such  a  thing!  Our  engagement  must  not  be 
breathed  to  a  human  being — not  even  to  father, 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  327 

mother,  sister  or  brother.  If  our  parents  knew  of 
it,  they  would  certainly  break  it  off  if  they  could, 
on  the  ground  of  our  age.  Break  it  off!  No,  that 
can  never  be.  Sooner  will  the  moon  cease  to  shed 
her  placid  beams  upon  the  earth,  sooner  will  this 
heart  cease  to  beat,  than  your  Amanda  forget  her 
vows,  or  human  power  make  her  break  them. 
But  think  of  the  troubles  that  may  follow  the 
disclosure!  Oh,  William,  I  cannot  bear  a  frown, 
I  cannot  bear  even  a  cold  look  from  my  dear, 
sweet  parents;  and  how  would  it  rend  my  heart 
to  see  them  frown  on  you  or  receive  you  dis 
tantly—" 

"  And  does  Miss  Ward  suppose  that  her  parents 
would  object  to  our  alliance?" 

"No,  no,  William;  I'm  sure  they  will  be  de 
lighted  with  it,  at  the  proper  time ;  but  think  how 
young  we  are!  I  have  heard  my  father  say  that 
the  man  who  has  grown  daughters  in  Princeton 
occupies  a  very  delicate  position.  To  forbid 
them  to  receive  the  visits  of  students  would  be  to 
forbid  them  from  receiving  in  the  main,  the  very 
best  society  that  they  could  have,  and  to  violate 
the  laws  of  hospitality ;  but  to  encourage  students 
in  making  love  to  their  daughters,  was  injustice  to 
the  students,  and  treason  to  their  distant  parents. 
Now,  if  he  knew  that  we  were  engaged,  he  would 


328         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

be  almost  certain  to  send  me  away  to  some  board 
ing  school — and  what  pain  would  that  give  us! 
And  suppose  another  should  address  me ;  does  my 
William  think  that  there  is  another  in  this  wide 
world  who  can  make  the  least  impression  on  his 
Amanda's  heart?  Can  you  doubt  your  Amanda's 
constancy?  Can  you  fear  that  anything  on  earth 
could  chill  her  first,  her  only  love,  in  a  few  short 
years?  No,  William,  whether  you  remain  true 
or  false,  never,  never,  can  I  love  another.  The 
very  thought  startles  me  like  an  electric  shock. 
The  keenest  pang  I  ever  felt  was  at  hearing  my 
mother  say  that  my  father  was  not  her  first  love 
— I  ought  not  to  have  mentioned  it — I  have 
never  breathed  it  to  another;  but  to  you  I  may 
entrust  it,  for  we  are  soon  to  be  one.  From 
you  I  can  conceal  nothing.  But  what  agony  did 
the  disclosure  give  me;  you'll  never  mention 
it,  William?" 

"Never,  Amanda." 

"  I  felt  for  days,  weeks  and  months,  as  if  I  were 
an  orphan.  Oh,  how  my  heart  sympathized  with 
my  dear,  sweet  father !  He  knew  it  when  he  mar 
ried  mother.  They  live  happily  together.  But 
it  seems  to  me,  the  cruel,  bitter  thought  must 
sometimes  present  itself,  '  this  heart  was  once 
another's — this  heart  was  not  always  mine,'  and, 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  329 

oh,  what  pain  it  must  give !  And  what  is  married 
life,  if  there  be  anything  in  it  to  interrupt,  even 
for  a  moment,  the  constant  stream  of  heavenly  bliss 
which  it  promises  to  hearts  united  in  the  silken 
cords  of  pure,  ecstatic,  first-born  love!  There, 
William,  you  are  entrusted  with  every  secret  of 
my  heart." 

Mr.  Mitten  was  so  charmed  with  Miss  Amanda's 
sentiments,  and  enraptured  with  her  eloquence, 
that  he  entirely  forgot  the  text.  He  soon  re 
covered  it,  however,  and  after  thanking  Miss  Ward 
for  her  confidence,  and  promising  to  keep  it  sacred, 
he  said: 

"Under  all  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the 
case,  my  dear  Amanda,  I  will  consent  to  keep  our 
engagement  a  secret;  but,  as  a  general  rule,  I 
think  there  should  be  no  secrecy  in  such  matters. " 

Mr.  Mitten's  mind  being  now  disburdened  he  re 
sumed  his  studies  with  alacrity,  and  maintained  his 
place  to  the  close  of  the  Sophomore  year.  The 
vacation  ensued,  and  the  first  five  weeks  of  it 
Mr.  Mitten  devoted  to  Miss  Amanda.  He  took  her 
out  almost  daily  on  pleasure  rides,  lavished  pres 
ents  upon  her  of  the  most  costly  jewelry,  books, 
engravings,  and  love-tokens  innumerable;  and, 
strange  to  tell,  Miss  Amanda  received  them  without 
rebuking  this  ill-advised  waste  of  his  humble 


330         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

patrimony.  Nor  was  Mr.  Mitten  less  attentive  to 
the  decoration  of  his  own  person  than  of  Miss 
Amanda's.  He  laid  in  a  profusion  of  coats,  vests, 
pants,  gloves,  stockings,  boots,  shoes,  pumps 
and  under  garments,  all  at  the  highest  prices,  and 
in  the  most  fashionable  style.  To  his  other  pur 
chases  he  added  an  elegant  watch,  chain,  seals  and 
key,  and  a  handsome  diamond  breastpin.  Many 
of  these  things  were  purchased  upon  a  short  credit, 
to  be  paid  for  as  soon  as  he  could  get  remittances 
from  home.  With  all  his  accomplishments  there 
was  one  wanting  to  make  him  perfect  in  Miss 
Amanda's  eye,  and  that  was,  "the  poetry  of 
motion."  Herein  Miss  Amanda  excelled,  and  she 
urged  him  to  put  himself  under  Monsieur  Coupee,  to 
add  this  to  his  many  graces.  She  said  that  she  was 
very  fond  of  cotillon  parties,  but  that  they  had  lost 
all  interest  to  her  since  she  learned  that  he  did  not 
dance.  He  took  her  advice.  As  "the  poetry  of 
motion,"  cotillon  measure,  consists  entirely  of 
anapestics  and  dactyls,  performed  with  alternate 
feet,  Mr.  Mitten  soon  mastered  this  accomplish 
ment.  Thus  went  off  the  first  month  and  a  quar 
ter  of  the  vacation. 

With  all  his  expenditures  he  had  taken  care  to 
reserve  money  enough,  as  he  supposed,  to  spend  a 
few  days  in  Morristown,  a  week  in  Newark,  and  a 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  33i 

week  in  New  York,  without  exhausting  his  funds. 
At  the  commencement  of  his  sixth  week  of  the 
vacation  he  set  out  for  Morristown.  Here  lived 
a  classmate  of  his,  who  insisted  upon  his  spending 
a  week  with  him.  Mitten  consented.  A  round  of 
parties  ensued,  all  of  which  he  attended,  and  at 
all  of  which  he  played  havoc  with  the  hearts  of  the 
girls  of  Morristown.  From  his  classmate  the  re 
port  soon  spread  through  the  village,  that  he  was 
the  first  scholar  in  his  class,  and  immensely  rich. 
These  things  conspiring  with  his  fine  person,  grace 
ful  manners,  and  agreeable  conversation,  made  him 
absolutely  irresistible.  Now  there  happened  to 
be  in  Morristown  at  this  time,  a  young  lady  from 
South  Carolina,  of  the  Bethlehem  School,  who  was 
spending  her  vacation  with  a  relative  of  the 
village,  or  rather  making  Morristown  her  head 
quarters  for  the  vacation.  Her  name  was  Louisa 
Green,  she  was  behind  Miss  Ward  in  nothing,  and 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars  ahead  of  her  in 
point  of  fortune.  Miss  Green  and  Mr.  Mitten 
being  both  from  the  South,  naturally  formed  a 
strong  partiality  for  each  other ;  of  course  it  did  not 
amount  to  love  on  William's  part,  but  it  amounted 
to  love  palpably  on  Louisa's  part.  As  she 
was  from  the  South,  William  felt  himself  bound 
to  pay  her  particular  attentions.  Accordingly 


332         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

he  did  all  that  he  could  to  make  her  time  pass 
agreeably  during  his  stay  in  Morristown.  He 
could  but  observe  the  tokens  of  her  favor,  and  they 
awakened  in  him  a  tender  compassion.  She  had 
appointed  to  visit  a  schoolmate  in  Elizabethtown, 
five  days  after  the  time  when  he  was  to  leave  for 
Newark.  He  offered  to  wait  and  accompany  her. 
This  threw  him  five  days  longer  on  his  friend's 
hospitality  than  he  contracted  for,  but  he  was 
welcome.  She  accepted  his  offer  thankfully. 
They  went — he  was  introduced  to  her  young 
friend,  who  prevailed  upon  him  to  spend  two  or 
three  days  in  Elizabethtown.  He  consented — 
parties  commenced  on  the  second  day  after  his 
arrival,  and  were  kept  up  with  but  short  intervals 
for  nine  days.  The  scenes  of  Morristown  were 
renewed.  He  had  set  every  day  for  the  last  six, 
for  leaving  Elizabethtown,  but  something  or  other 
always  delayed  his  departure.  The  schoolmates 
of  Elizabethtown  planned  a  visit  to  a  third,  in 
New  York,  for  a  few  days.  As  this  jumped  with 
William's  plans  exactly,  and  promised  to  make 
his  visit  to  New  York  pleasurable  infinitely  be 
yond  his  anticipations,  he  proposed  to  accompany 
the  young  ladies.  They  accepted  his  proposition 
with  pleasure.  It  required  three  days  to  prepare 
the  young  ladies  for  their  contemplated  trip,  and 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  333 

these  embraced  the  opening  of  the  college  term. 
Time  had  run  off  so  merrily  that  he  had  not  kept 
count  of  it,  and  he  was  thunderstruck  when  a 
question  put  to  him  about  the  college,  reminded 
him  that  the  term  opened  on  the  day  before  he  was 
to  leave  with  his  fair  companions  for  New  York. 
What  was  he  to  do?  Violate  his  pledge  to  the 
young  ladies?  That  would  never  do. 

He  determined  to  conduct  them  to  New  York, 
and  hasten  on  to  college.  When  he  came  to  settle 
up  his  bills  in  Elizabethtown,  he  was  thunder 
struck  again;  they  were  four  times  as  large  as  he 
anticipated,  and  in  counting  up  his  cash,  he  found 
that  he  had  barely  enough  to  take  him  to  New 
York  and  back  to  Princeton.  The  ladies  were 
delayed  a  day  beyond  the  appointed  time  by  some 
accident.  Mr.  Mitten  was  in  torments.  It  was 
certain  that  his  funds  would  give  out  before  he 
reached  Princeton ;  and  here  in  a  land  of  strangers, 
what  was  he  to  do?  In  this  emergency,  it  had 
just  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  been  very  remiss 
in  not  paying  his  respects  to  Mr.  Beach,  and  he 
concluded  to  spend  a  part  of  the  spare  day  with 
this  kind  friend.  Mr.  Beach  hardly  knew  him 
when  he  presented  himself  at  his  door,  so  changed 
was  he  in  everything.  After  a  visit  of  an  hour 
William  said:  "Mr.  Beach,  I  have  been  out 


334         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

spending  the  vacation,  and  my  expenses,  have  been 
so  much  heavier  than  I  expected  that  I  have  got 
out  of  money ;  if  you  could  favor  me  so  far  as  to 
loan  me  thirty  dollars,  I  will  give  you  an  order  on 
Mr.  Sanders  for  the  amount,  or  I  will  send  it  to 
you  as  soon  as  I  get  back  to  college. "  "  Certainly, 
William,"  said  Mr.  Beach,  "  I  will  take  the  order, 
and  if  you  pay  it  when  you  get  to  college,  I  will 
send  it  to  you."  The  money  was  loaned,  and 
William  returned  to  Elizabethtown  rejoicing. 
On  their  way  to  New  York  he  suggested  to  Miss 
Green  that  the  college  term  had  opened  and  that 
on  the  day  after  their  arrival  in  New  York  he 
would  be  compelled  to  return  to  college.  She 
expressed  her  regrets  that  they  must  part,  prob 
ably  never  to  meet  again,  but  hoped  that  they 
would  renew  their  acquaintance,  after  their  return 
home.  William  proposed  a  friendly  correspon 
dence  ad  interim.  She  said  that  she  could  not 
promise  that,  as  the  pupils  of  her  school  were  for 
bidden  to  correspond  with  young  gentlemen;  but 
if  he  chose  to  write  to  her  she  had  no  objections. 
On  their  arrival  in  New  York,  the  news  greeted 
them  that  on  the  evening  of  the  next  day  two  of 
the  greatest  tragedians  of  the  age  were  to  appear 
in  the  principal  parts  of  Shakespeare's  Othello. 
William  had  never  seen  a  play  acted  by  professed 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  335 

performers,  and  "as  he  had  overstayed  his  time 
anyhow,  and  one  day  more  could  not  make  much 
difference, "  he  determined  to  prolong  his  visit  that 
far,  and  take  the  ladies  to  the  theater.  He  pro 
cured  tickets  for  the  three  young  ladies,  but  as  the 
father  of  the  one  whom  the  others  were  visiting, 
chose  to  accompany  them  all  to  the  theater,  and 
furnish  tickets  himself,  William  had  two  on  hand 
either  to  use  or  throw  away  at  his  option.  He  was 
transported  with  the  performance.  Hamlet  was 
announced  for  the  next  night;  but  as  the  ladies 
declined  going  to  the  theater  two  nights  in  succes 
sion,  he  went  alone.  Macbeth  was  announced  for 
the  next  night;  and  as  all  the  girls  must  see  this 
play,  they  went  as  before,  William  accompanying. 
The  day  following  he  left  for  Princeton,  and 
reached  there  with  just  seventy-five  cents  in  his 
pocket. 

His  classmate  of  Morristown  (Johnson  by  name) 
brought  down  his  history  to  his  departure  from 
that  village.  "  He  went  off, "  said  Johnson,  "  after 
a  beautiful  accomplished  South  Carolina  heiress, 
worth  a  cool  hundred  thousand  in  cash,  with  kinky- 
heads  according;  and  he  has  only  to  stretch  out 
his  hand  to  her  and  she'll  snatch  at  it;  for  every 
body  sees  that  she  is  over  head  and  ears  in  love 
with  him,  as  indeed  all  the  girls  in  Morristown  are ; 


336         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

for  Bill  is  death  among  the  pullets. "  This  report 
mitigated  the  anxiety  of  his  Georgian  companions 
concerning  him,  but  did  not  entirely  relieve  them; 
for  they  feared  the  consequences  of  William's 
change  of  habits,  not  only  upon  his  stand  in  college, 
but  upon  his  future  life.  . 

We  have  said  that  he  had  four  competitors  for 
the  first  honor,  but  there  was  only  one  of  them  that 
he  had  cause  to  dread,  for  though  the  five  were 
equal  in  mathematics,  there  was  but  one  who 
approached  him  in  other  studies.  This  was  Talia- 
ferro  (pronounced  Toliver)  of  Virginia.  When  at 
the  opening  of  the  term,  the  class  appeared  to  recite 
in  mathematics,  and  Taliaferro  found  Mitten  absent, 
his  countenance  kindled  with  delight.  His  delight 
increased  with  every  recitation  in  this  study,  until 
it  came  to  the  fifth.  As  he  retired  from  this  he 
said  triumphantly,  "  I've  got  him  safe — I've  got 
this  brilliant  young  Georgian  just  as  the  owl  had 
the  hen,  so  that  he  can  neither  back  nor  squall. 
With  his  head  full  of  girls  and  fortune,  if  ever  he 
keeps  up  with  the  class,  and  makes  up  five  lost 
lessons,  he  is  a  smarter  man  than  I  think  he  is, 
and  I  think  he  is  the  smartest  I  ever  saw." 
Taliaferro  thus  spoke  because  he  well  knew  that  a 
lost  recitation  in  mathematics  is  almost  as  fatal 
to  farther  progress  in  the  science  as  the  loss  of 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE    337 

one  of  the  nine  digits  would  be  to  enumeration. 
And  yet  if  William  had  determined  to  do  it,  he 
could  have  made  up  his  deficiencies  before  the  end 
of  the  Junior  year,  and  thrown  Taliaferro  far  in 
his  rear  in  the  Senior  year.  Why  he  did  not,  we 
shall  see.  When  called  to  account  for  his  absence 
he  said  "he  was  necessarily  detained." 

Having  followed  Mitten's  movements  during  the 
vacation,  let  us  now  unveil  some  of  his  thoughts 
and  reflections  accompanying  these  movements. 
"  Here  it  is  now, "  mused  he  on  the  fifth  day  of  his 
acquaintance  with  Miss  Green.  "  If  Amanda  had 
not  made  me  promise  to  keep  our  engagement 
secret,  I  could  now  tell  Louisa  of  it,  and  let  her 
understand  the  true  ground  of  my  attentions  to 
her ;  but  as  it  is,  I  must  either  be  distant  to  her — 
which  would  be  unpardonable  in  me  as  she  is  from 
the  South — or  I  must  encourage  her  attachment 
which  is  plainly  visible  and  growing.  Amanda 
will  hear  of  my  intentions  through  Johnson,  and 
suppose  I  am  after  Louisa's  fortune.  No,  dear 
girl,  fortune  shall  never  make  me  sacrifice  my  word 
and  my  honor. " 

On  the  seventh  day:  "  It  was  very  indiscreet  in 
Amanda  to  exact  that  promise  from  me,  I  don't 
know  how  to  act  under  it. " 

Ninth    day:  "Hang    that    silly    promise!     I'll 

22 


338         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

keep  it,  but  I  fear  I  shall  never  feel  towards 
Amanda  as  I  should  have  felt  if  she  had  not  ex 
torted  it  from  me.  I  was  too  hasty  in  making  it ; 
in  fact  I  was  too  hasty  in  the  whole  matter.  Well, 
whatever  may  come  of  it,  I  shall  not  forego  duty 
to  a  Southern  friend,  far  from  home,  because  I 
happen  to  be  engaged." 

On  the  day  he  visited  Mr.  Beach:  "What  a 
botheration  it  is  to  want  money !  I  doubt  whether 
Amanda  will  ever  be  satisfied  to  live  in  Georgia. 
I  wish  she  was  not  quite  so  romantic.  It  was  very 
imprudent  in  her  to  speak  of  her  father  and  mother 
as  she  did  to  me — I  don't  believe  one  can  love  truly 
but  once;  I  believe  I  could  love  Louisa  just  as 
ardently  as  I  love  her,  if  I  would  allow  myself 
to  do  so." 

On  the  day  he  left  New  York:  "One  hundred 
thousand  dollars!  I  wish  I  had  fifty  of  it  now. 
What  a  sum  it  is!  Enough  to  last  a  man's  life 
time,  and  satisfy  every  desire  of  his  heart.  One 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  a  beautiful  intelli 
gent  lovely  Southern  girl  to  boot !  Amanda  ought 
to  adore  me  for  resisting  such  a  temptation  for 
her  sake." 

On  reaching  Princeton,  he  went  immediately  to 
see  Amanda  and  found  her  in  deep  distress.  She 
said  "  she  had  been  meditating  suicide,  but  could 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  339 

not  leave  the  world  without  one  more  last,  long 
ing,  lingering  look  upon  her  William. "  Upon  his 
assuring  her,  however,  that  he  was  not  engaged 
to  Miss  Green,  that  he  had  not  proposed  himself  to 
her,  and  that  he  would  have  informed  her  of  his 
engagement  if  he  had  not  been  forbidden  to  do 
so,  Miss  Amanda  was  greatly  comforted,  inso 
much  that  she  concluded  to  postpone  the  suicide 
until  a  more  suitable  season.  She  entertained 
him  with  a  melting  narrative  of  her  soliloquies 
and  tears  over  breastpins,  lockets  and  the  like, 
which,  as  it  came  just  at  the  time  when  he  was 
terribly  pinched  for  money,  produced  a  double 
sympathy — or  rather  an  oscillating  sympathy, 
which  played  so  equally  between  himself  and  Miss 
Amanda,  that  she  could  not  understand  it,  and 
took  it  for  coldness.  They  parted,  however,  with 
renewed  professions  of  love. 

Markham,  Thomson  and  Brown  had  together 
paid  a  short  visit  to  Philadelphia,  Trenton  and 
Monmouth,  early  in  the  vacation,  and  returned 
to  Princeton.  On  their  return,  Brown  enclosed 
a  fifty-dollar  bill*  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Markham, 
saying :  "  I  have  saved  this  much  out  of  my  allow- 

*  At  this  time  Jersey  bank  bills  were  just  as  current  in  Georgia  as  gold 
and  silver.  The  first  one-dollar  bill  that  ever  was  seen  in  Georgia  was  from 
a  Jersey  bank. 


340         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

ance  without  stinting  myself  in  the  least.  If  you 
think  it  would  not  be  wrong  to  appropriate  it  to  my 
mother's  necessities,  please  deal  it  out  to  her  as  she 
needs.  Apply  all  of  it  but  what  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  keep  my  mother  above  want,  to  the 
schooling  of  my  two  little  sisters.  But  if  you  think 
that  I  have  no  right  to  use  the  money  in  this  way, 
please  return  it  to  the  kind  gentlemen  who  raised 
it  for  me ;  and  tell  them  that  it  is  more  than  I  need, 
and  I  think  in  justice  it  ought  to  be  returned  to 
them." 

We  need  hardly  say  that  this  letter  made  John's 
patrons  feel  much  more  like  doubling  than  reduc 
ing  their  contributions  to  him. 

From  New  York  William  had  written  a  letter  to 
his  mother,  setting  forth  that  he  had  greatly  mis 
calculated  in  saying  that  five  hundred  dollars  per 
annum  would  be  amply  sufficient  to  pay  his  college 
expenses.  Traveling  expenses,  he  said,  far  ex 
ceeded  his  expectations ;  that  he  had  set  out  from 
Princeton  on  a  vacation  ramble,  with  money 
enough  in  hand,  he  thought,  to  pay  his  expenses 
three  times  over,  and  after  visiting  only  three 
places,  he  was  in  New  York  with  hardly  money 
enough  to  pay  his  reckoning,  and  get  him  back 
to  Princeton;  and  there  his  board  and  tuition 
would  have  to  be  paid  in  advance.  He  concluded 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  34i 

by  begging  her  to  send  him  on  two  hundred  dollars 
as  speedily  as  possible.  Here  was  the  very  place 
for  him  to  have  informed  his  mother  that  he  had 
borrowed  money  from  Mr.  Beach,  and  to  have 
informed  Mr.  Sanders,  through  her,  how  he  came 
to  draw  on  him.  But  he  knew  that  it  would  mor 
tify  his  mother  exceedingly  to  learn  that  he  was 
repaying  Mr.  Beach's  kindness  by  taxing  his 
purse;  and  he  intended  to  stop  the  draft  from 
going  to  the  drawee,  by  payment  of  it.  Brown's 
letter  had  a  fortnight  or  more  the  start  of  Wil 
liam's,  and  its  contents  were  known  to  everybody 
in  the  village  in  three  days  after  it  had  reached 
Mr.  Markham.  When  William's  letter  therefore 
reached  home,  it  alarmed  and  distressed  his  mother 
exceedingly.  She  gathered  the  money  as  soon  as 
she  possibly  could  (borrowing  a  part  of  it)  and 
dispatched  it  to  William,  with  a  letter  eloquently 
expressive  of  her  feelings : — "  How  is  it,  my  dear 
boy, "  said  she,  "  that  John  Brown,  with  his  limited 
resources,  can  visit  Philadelphia,  Trenton  and 
Monmouth,  and  yet  send  hither  fifty  dollars  out  of 
his  income,  to  assist  his  poor  mother,  and  school 
his  little  sisters;  and  you  cannot  visit  as  many 
places  without  exhausting  your  funds  and  requir 
ing  two  hundred  dollars  over?"  The  whole  letter 
would  fill  every  reader's  eyes  with  tears;  but  we 


342         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

have  not  time  and  space  for  it  here.  By  the 
shortest  possible  course  of  mail  William  could  not 
receive  an  answer  to  his  letter  in  less  than  a 
month  from  its  date.  In  the  meantime  he  must 
be  shut  out  of  college,  if  he  could  not  raise  the 
tuition  fees  at  least.  His  only  course  was  to  bor 
row.  He  went  to  his  cousin  David,  who  loaned 
him  fifteen  dollars,  all  "he  had  over/'  as  the 
merchants  say.  He  went  to  Markham,  and  he 
readily  loaned  him  twenty  dollars  saying,  "this 
is  all  I  have,  but  go  to  Brown,  I  know  he  has 
over  fifty  dollars,  for  we  compared  notes  when 
we  got  back  to  college."  He  went  to  Brown  and 
asked  the  loan  of  fifteen  dollars.  "  William,"  said 
Brown,  "  I  would  loan  it  to  you  with  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure,  but  I  have  it  not — here  are  three  dollars, 
all  I've  got,  which  you  are  welcome  to,  if  it  will  be  of 
any  service  to  you."  William  looked  on  him  furi 
ously  and  said:  "Brown,  if  I  don't  raise  fifteen 
dollars  I  can't  get  back  into  college,  and  I  know 
you  have  that  much,  and  three  times  that  much." 
"  William,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  I  have  but 
three  dollars  in  the  world.  How  can  you  suppose 
that  I  would  not  loan  it  to  you  if  I  had  it?  If 
there's  anything  I  have,  by  sale  of  which  you  can 
raise  the  amount,  go  take  it  and  sell  it,  with  all 
my  heart." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE   343 

William  wheeled  off  in  a  rage,  and  hastened  to 
Thomson  and  Markham,  saying,  "  Who  could  be 
lieve  it  possible  that  John  Brown  would  see  me  shut 
out  of  college  rather  than  loan  me  fifteen  dollars. 
He  says  he  has  but  three  dollars  in  the  world!" 

"John  Brown  says  so!"  exclaimed  the  two. 

"Come,"  said  Thomson,  "let's  go  and  bring 
him  face  to  face." 

Away  they  went,  and  Brown,  seeing  them 
coming,  turned  pale  as  a  sheet. 

"Look  at  his  countenance,"  whispered  William. 

"John  Brown,"  said  Thomson,  "did  you  tell 
Cousin  William  that  you  hadn't  fifteen  dollars  in 
the  world?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  told  him  the  truth." 

"Didn't  you  tell  George  Markham  and  myself 
that  you  brought  back  from  your  travels  money 
enough  to  pay  tuition  and  board  and  leave  you 
over  fifty  dollars  in  hand?" 

"Yes,  I  did;  but  I  have  disposed  of  fifty  dollars 
of  it." 

"  How  did  you  dispose  of  it?" 

"  I  don't  wish  to  tell,  but  in  a  way  that  all  of  you 
would  approve  of  if  I  were  to  tell  you — indeed  I  do 
not  know  myself  as  yet,  how  it  went." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  such  chat,"  said  William, 
" from  anybody  but  an  idiot  since  you  were  born! 


344         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Disposed  of  it  as  we  all  would  approve,  and  doesn't 
know  himself  how  he  disposed  of  it!" 

The  boys  wheeled  off  indignantly. 

"Stop,  boys,"  said  Brown  with  streaming  eyes, 
"  and  I  will  explain." 

"We  want  no  explanation,  sir,"  said  William. 
"  Dig  a  mole  out  of  the  dirt  and  stick  him  on  a 
steeple,  and  he'll  be  a  mole  still." 

No  pen  can  describe  John's  agony.  He  saw 
himself  deserted  by  the  sons  of  his  benefactors; 
he  knew  that  they  all  believed  that  he  had  lied, 
and  he  knew  that  before  the  morrow's  sun  it 
would  be  trumpeted  all  through  the  college  that 
the  bright  Mitten  was  kept  from  his  class  by  his 
meanness.  In  the  midst  of  his  horrors,  the  bell 
summoned  him  to  his  recitation.  The  class  was 
arranged  alphabetically,  and  his  name  was  the 
first  on  the  list.  The  professor  called  on  him; 
he  rose,  tried  to  suppress  his  emotions,  but  could 
not ;  and  he  resumed  his  seat,  his  bosom  heaving, 
and  his  eyes  streaming  as  though  his  heart  would 
break.  The  class  stood  aghast,  and  the  professor 
looked  sad;  for  Brown  had  not  been  remiss  in  a 
single  college  duty.  Keen  as  was  his  anguish,  it 
would  have  been  aggravated  heavily  but  for 
George  Markham's  prudence. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  it  isn't  worth  while  to  spread 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  345 

this  thing  through  the  college — at  least  let  us  wait 
awhile  before  we  do  it.  Remember  that  he  is  a 
Georgian,  has  been  our  intimate  friend,  and  it  will 
be  flung  up  to  us  upon  all  occasions.  And  after 
all,  I  never  knew  John  Brown  to  tell  a  lie  in  my 
life,  and  he  may  be  enabled  to  explain  the  matter." 

After  some  debate  they  agreed  to  keep  the 
matter  to  themselves.  That  very  day  John 
received  tidings  of  his  father's  death,  and  as 
nobody  thought  of  enquiring  as  to  the  precise  time 
when  he  received  the  intelligence,  it  was  regarded 
by  the  class  as  the  cause  of  his  emotion  in  the 
recitation  room,  and  by  his  three  friends  as  an 
additional  inducement  to  deal  tenderly  with  him. 
Thomson  borrowed  the  fifteen  dollars  for  Wil 
liam,  and  he  joined  his  class. 

Thus  stood  matters  when  Mrs.  Mitten's  letter 
was  received.  As  soon  as  William  read  it,  he 
hastened  to  Thomson  and  Markham's  room  with 
it,  handed  it  to  his  cousin,  flung  himself  into  a 
seat,  dropped  his  forehead,  hands-covered,  on  his 
knees,  and  wept  bitterly.  Thomson  read  it,  and 
passed  it  in  sobs  to  Markham.  He  was  not  so 
much  affected,  and  spoke  first: 

"The  Lord  be  praised  that  we  kept  our  notions 
of  John's  conduct  from  the  college.  Why  this, 
and  our  coldness,  and  his  father's  death  all  coming 


346          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

upon  him  at  once,  would  have  killed  the  poor 
fellow.  He's  almost  heart-broken,  anyhow. 
What  a  warning  is  this  to  us  against  acting  hastily 
in  such  matters!  Let  us  send  for  him,  and  relieve 
both  him  and  ourselves  immediately."  He  was 
sent  for,  and  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  room,  they 
all  rushed  to  him  and  embraced  him  together. 

"Oh,  John,"  continued  Markham,  "we  know 
what  you  did  with  your  fifty  dollars,  and  we 
are  all  ashamed  of  ourselves." 

"John,"  said  William,  "I  beg  your  pardon  ten 
thousand  times — " 

"And  I." 

"John,"  said  William,  "how  could  you  say,  you 
didn't  know  as  yet  how  your  money  went?" 

"  Because  I  didn't  know  that  it  would  be  right  in 
me  to  take  money  raised  for  my  education,  and 
apply  it  to  the  use  of  my  mother  and  sisters;  so  I 
sent  it  to  Mr.  Markham  and  told  him,  if  he  thought 
I  had  no  right  to  use  it  in  this  way,  to  return  it  to 
the  gentlemen  who  raised  it  for  me,  and  I  don't 
know  which  way  it  went,  even  now,  for  Mr.  Mark- 
ham  said  nothing  to  me  about  it  in  the  letter 
reporting  my  father's  death." 

"John,"  continued  William,  "I  never  shall 
forgive  myself  for  my  treatment  of  you.  I  had 
some  apology  for  suspecting  you  of  insincerity, 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE   347 

but  I  had  none  for  that  vile,  unfeeling,  brutal 
remark  of  mine — " 

"  What  remark,  William?" 

"About  the  mole." 

"I  didn't  hear  that." 

"  You  didn't !  Thank  heaven,  that  you  did  not, 
but  it's  none  the  less  mean  on  that  account." 

William  paid  the  sums  borrowed  and  his  board ; 
and  now  the  merchants,  tailors,  shoemakers  and 
jewelers  began  to  press  him.  They  always  press 
at  the  opening  and  close  of  terms,  because  students 
are  then  commonly  full-handed;  but  they  had 
other  reasons  for  pressing  in  this  instance.  The 
balance  of  his  two  hundred  dollars,  save  fifteen 
reserved,  went  in  less  than  a  fortnight,  without 
paying  more  than  fifty  cents  on  the  dollar  of  his 
debts.  Youth-like,  he  thought  more  of  the  annoy 
ances  of  creditors  than  of  their  respective  claims 
upon  his  honor,  and  Mr.  Beach  was  postponed  to 
the  most  ravenous.  Some  of  these,  all  of  whom 
understand  well  the  art  of  milking  students,  said, 
"  that  they  were  not  in  the  habit  of  crediting  stu 
dents,  but  that  everybody  represented  Mr.  Mitten 
as  such  a  brilliant,  high-minded,  rich  and  honor 
able  young  man,  that  they  would  have  trusted 
him  for  half  their  goods."  Others  said,  "that 
relying  certainly  upon  payment  at  this  time,  they 


348         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

had  contracted  debts  on  the  faith  of  it,  and  if 
disappointed,  they  did  not  know  what  was  to  be 
come  of  them."  Another  said,  "  If  Mr.  Mitten 
couldn't  pay  him  all,  he  would  be  very  glad  to  get 
half  the  amount  due,  to  keep  his  wife  and  children 
from  suffering."  Thus  they  went  on  with  every 
variety  of  experiment  upon  his  feelings,  until  he 
began  to  think  that  his  own  character,  the  char 
acter  of  the  South,  and  all  Princeton,  were  likely 
to  sink  together  in  one  common  grave  of  indis 
criminate  ruin.  Most  of  Mr.  Mitten's  debts  had 
been  contracted  within  the  past  three  months, 
and  many  of  the  students,  well  posted  in  such  mat 
ters,  testified  with  becoming  indignation,  that  such 
a  thing  was  unheard  of  in  the  history  of  Princeton, 
as  dunning  students  for  debts  but  three  months 
old;  and  two  or  three  proposed,  in  vindication  of 
the  time-honored  usages  of  the  place,  to  stone  the 
windows  of  the  importunate  creditors;  but  Mr. 
Mitten,  partly  from  the  lights  of  Mr.  Markham's 
counsels,  and  partly  from  his  own  good  sense, 
opposed  all  violent  measures,  as  he  could  not  see 
how  these  would  sustain  his  credit  or  cancel  his 
debts.  But  there  were  two  specialties  which 
hurried  the  creditors;  the  one  was,  that  Mr. 
Mitten  had  promised  to  pay  them  at  the  opening 
of  the  term,  and  the  other  was,  that  Miss  Amanda, 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  349 

either  from  love  of  truth,  or  the  truth  of  love,  had 
corrected  the  popular  opinion  of  Mr.  Mitten's 
vast  wealth,  and  represented  him,  upon  his  own 
authority,  as  not  only  not  very  rich,  but  very 
poor.  The  torments  of  creditors  abated  consider 
ably  the  rapture  with  which  Mr.  Mitten  was  wont 
to  view  the  ornaments  of  Miss  Ward's  person, 
interfered  with  his  studies,  and  set  his  thoughts 
to  running  upon  filthy  lucre.  He  commenced 
his  friendly  correspondence  with  Miss  Green.  His 
first  letter  was  exceedingly  friendly.  He  waited 
the  proper  time  for  an  answer ;  but  received  none. 
He  wrote  another,  still  more  friendly,  but  received 
no  answer.  He  wrote  another  in  the  very  agony 
of  friendship.  To  this  he  received  the  following 
answer : 

"All  your  letters  have  been  received.  They 
have  given  the  principal  of  the  school  great  un 
easiness,  and  me  great  delight.  He  knows  only 
whence  they  come ; — know  you  whither  they  have 
gone?  into  the  most  hallowed  chamber  of  my 
heart.  Mail  your  letters  anywhere  but  at  Prince 
ton;  my  answers  will  be  returned  through  a  con 
fidante  in  Morristown. 

"YOUR  LOUISA." 

Thenceforward  Mr.  Mitten  could  hardly  do  any 
thing  but  write  letters.  The  two  friends  soon 


350         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

became  so  much  attached  to  each  other  that  they 
interchanged  pledges  of  perpetual  union.  The 
"hundred  thousand  dollars"  were  now  safe,  and 
college  honors  sank  to  insignificance  in  the  esti 
mation  of  Mr.  Mitten.  He  studied  only  to  grad 
uate,  and  in  the  short  space  of  four  months  dropped 
from  the  head  below  the  middle  of  his  class.  The 
"  hundred  thousand"  were  a  good  way  off,  and  his 
demands  for  money  were  immediate  and  pressing. 
To  meet  the  exigencies  of  the  present  time,  he 
concluded  to  try  his  skill  at  cards  with  the  "  Reg 
ular  Panel"  of  Princeton.  He  was  very  success 
ful,  but  still  he  forgot  Mr.  Beach.  The  Club, 
of  course,  had  refreshments,  to  counteract  the 
effects  of  sedentary  habits  and  constant  watchings. 
They  met  at  Mr.  Mitten's  room,  and,  as  he  had 
been  very  successful,  he  was  very  liberal  in  his 
supplies  of  good  cheer.  The  young  gentlemen 
enjoyed  themselves  quietly  until  about  one  o'clock 
A.  M.,  when  they  became  rather  troublesome  to  a 
professor  in  an  adjoining  dormitory.  The  pro 
fessor  rose,  dressed  himself,  and  went  to  Mitten's 
room  door — listened  awhile  and  knocked. 

"Walk  in,"  said  Mitten. 

The  professor  attempted  to  open  the  door,  but 
it  was  locked.  A  shuffling  of  feet,  a  moving  of 
chairs  and  a  rattling  of  glasses  were  heard,  and 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  351 

the  door  was  opened.  The  professor  stepped  in, 
found  a  table  set  out  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
with  two  candles  on  it,  burnt  down  nearly  to  the 
socket — two  fellows  on  Mitten's  bed  with  all  their 
clothes  on,  fast  asleep — two  more  in  his  roommate's 
bed,  covered  over  with  a  counterpane,  except 
as  to  the  heel  of  one  boot — another  just  undressing 
to  go  to  bed  under  same  counterpane  (at  least  he 
was  near  that  bed) — another  seated  at  the  table 
studying  the  Greek  Lexicon — while  Mr.  Mitten, 
who  opened  the  door,  was  pacing  the  room  in 
manifest  indignation.  Though  not  exactly  in 
toxicated,  he  had  stimulated  his  nervous  system 
up  to  an  unwonted  degree  of  independence — 
while  the  professor  was  very  coolly  making 
further  observations  (for  he  was  a  man  of 
nerve). 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Mitten,  "I  hope  you  have 
nosed  about  a  dormitory  in  which  you  have  no 
business,  to  your  satisfaction."  (Here  one  of  the 
sleepers,  whose  face  was  to  the  lights,  turned 
abruptly  over  with  a  sleepy  snort;  and  the  Greek 
student  saw  a  funny  word  in  the  Lexicon  at  which 
he  gave  a  little  chuckle.) 

"Not  quite,"  said  the  professor,  calmly. 

"Well,  sir,"  continued  Mitten,  "I  think  I  can 
convince  the  faculty,  and  if  not  the  faculty,  the 


352  STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

trustees,  that  you  have  no  right  to  be  poking  about 
another  professor's  dormitory  of  nights." 

"  Maybe  so,"  said  the  professor  coolly,  still 
poking  about. 

This  was  the  Professor  of  Mathematics,  who  had 
repeatedly  provoked  Mr.  Mitten  by  pressing  ques 
tions  upon  him  at  recitation  which  he  could  not 
answer.  This  is  considered  very  impolite  in  all 
colleges. 

Alas,  for  the  stability  of  human  happiness! 
Just  before  the  fatal  vacation  of  which  we  have 
spoken,  Mrs.  Mitten  was  as  happy  as  she  could  be 
on  earth.  Her  two  daughters  had  married  men 
of  worth,  position  and  fortune,  and  were  comfort 
ably  settled  in  counties  adjoining  that  in  which 
she  resided.  Her  son,  already  distinguished,  was 
on  the  high  road  to  preferment,  and  her  mind 
was  at  peace  with  her  maker  and  the  world.  What 
changes  a  few  months  more  wrought  in  her  destiny ! 

The  events  with  which  we  concluded  the  last 
chapter  occurred  on  Friday  night,  running  into 
Saturday  morning.  On  Monday  morning  the 
faculty  met  and  Mr.  Mitten  was  summoned  before 
them. 

"Mitten,"  said  the  President,  "you  are  charged 
with  keeping  a  disorderly  room — with  keeping 
intoxicating  liquors  in  your  room — with  drinking 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE   353 

intoxicating  liquors — with  playing  cards,  and  with 
insulting  Professor  Plus  on  Friday  night  last." 

"May  I  be  permitted,"  enquired  Mitten,  "to 
ask  upon  what  evidence  these  charges  are  brought 
against  me?" 

"  I  do  not  think, "  said  the  President,  "  that  you 
have  a  right  to  demand  the  evidence  until  you 
deny  the  charges." 

"I  hope,"  said  Professor  Plus,  "that  I  shall  be 
permitted  to  put  Mr.  Mitten  in  possession  of  the 
evidence  upon  which  the  charges  are  founded, 
before  he  is  required  to  answer  them." 

The  President  nodded  consent. 

"  About  twelve  o'clock  or  a  little  after,  on  Friday 
night  last,  I  was  waked  out  of  sleep  by  a  noise  in 
the  dormitory  adjoining  mine.  It  was  not  con 
tinuous,  but  fitful,  and  therefore  the  more  annoy 
ing  ;  for  with  every  intermission  I  flattered  myself 
it  would  cease,  and  I  would  just  get  into  a  doze, 
when  I  was  roused  by  it  again.  I  endured  it  for 
about  an  hour,  when  I  rose,  dressed  myself,  went 
out,  and  found  that  the  noise  proceeded  from 
Mitten's  room.  I  approached  the  door,  and 
paused  for  a  moment ;  just  as  I  reached  it,  I  heard 
five  thumps  on  the  table  in  quick  succession, 
followed  by  a  yell  and  profane  swearing.  'But 
for  Mitten's  jack  of  hearts/  said  a  voice  that  I 


354         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

took  to  be  Johnson,  ' 1  should  have  taken  the  pool. 
He  plays  the  devil  with  hearts. '  '  Rabb, '  said  one, 
'you  were  looed. '  'No,  I  wasn't,'  said  Rabb,  'I 
didn't  stand. '  'It's  Mitten's  deal, '  said  another. 
'No,  it  isn't,'  said  a  third,  'he  dealt  last  time.' 
Here  I  knocked  and  was  told  to  walk  in,  but  I 
found  the  door  locked.  After  much  shuffling 
and  rattling  of  glasses,  I  was  admitted.  Upon 
entering  the  room,  my  olfactories  were  assailed 
strongly  with  the  fumes  of  wine  and  brandy." 
The  professor  proceeded  with  the  details  which  we 
have  already  given  the  reader. 

"President  S—  — , "  said  Mitten,  "suppose  a 
professor  of  this  institution  should  take  up  a  strong 
prejudice  against  a  student,  should  seek  all  oppor 
tunities  of  mortifying  him  and  wounding  his  feel 
ings,  and  in  order  to  bring  him  before  the  faculty, 
plainly  and  palpably  violate  the  laws  of  college — 
has  the  student  any  redress,  and  how?" 

"Mr.  Mitten,"  said  the  President,  "our  time  is 
too  precious  to  be  occupied  with  the  discussion 
and  settlement  of  hypothetical  cases;  but  if  you 
have  been  thus  aggrieved,  you  should  seek  redress 
of  the  faculty,  and  if  you  do  not  find  it  here,  you 
should  appeal  to  the  trustees." 

"So  I  supposed,"  said  Mr.  Mitten,  "and  I  am 
now  ready  to  answer  the  charges  brought  against 


;    WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE   355 

me,  and  to  lay  my  complaints  before  the  fac 
ulty." 

He  now  delivered  a  flaming  speech,  in  a  remark 
ably  fine  style  for  one  of  his  age.  As  to  the  first 
charge,  he  said  that  "keeping  a  disorderly  room" 
certainly  implied  something  more  than  having 
disorder  in  his  room  for  a  single  evening.  So  of 
"keeping  intoxicating  liquors  in  his  room."  As 
to  "drinking  intoxicating  liquors,"  he  said  he 
would  answer  that  with  the  last  charge.  He  ad 
mitted  there  was  card -playing,  but  asserted  posi 
tively  that  there  was  not  a  bank  bill,  a  piece  of 
gold  or  silver  staked  on  the  game — that  the  pool 
spoken  of  consisted  of  nothing  but  button-molds. 

"  Mr.  Mitten, "  said  the  President,  "  didn't  those 
button-molds  represent  quarters,  half  dollars,  or 
dollars,  or  some  other  denomination  of  money? " 

"  Really,  Dr.  S ,  I  cannot  see  how  little 

bits  of  bone  could  represent  money.  A  bill 
represents  money,  because  it  contains  on  its  face 
a  promise  to  pay  money;  but — " 

"Go  on  with  your  defense,  Mr.  Mitten,"  said 
the  President. 

" Before  I  answer  the  last  charge,"  continued 
Mitten,  "  I  beg  leave  to  read  a  law  of  the  college: 
'One  of  the  Professors  shall  room  in  each  dormitory, 
whose  special  duty  it  shall  be  to  visit  the  rooms,  and 


356         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

keep  order  therein. '  Now,  gentlemen  of  the  faculty 
(I  only  address  such),  you  perceive  that  Professor 
Plus  had  no  right  to  visit  rooms  out  of  his  dormi 
tory.  My  dormitory  was  in  charge  of  Professor 
Syncope,  a  man  not  more  remarkable  for  his  gi 
gantic  intellect  than  he  is  for  his  courtesy,  kindness 
and  easy  familiarity  with  the  students.  He  heard 
no  noise,  'continuous  or  fitful.'  He  was  not  dis 
turbed,  and  it  is  very  strange  that  one  out  of  the 
dormitory  should  have  been  annoyed  and  disturbed 
by  noises  kept  up  for  near  an  hour,  which  one  in 
the  dormitory  heard  nothing  of.  I  know  that  one 
professor  may  have  much  more  sensitive  nerves 
than  another,  and  be  much  more  given  to  watch- 
ings  and  other  imbecilities,  but  these  differences 
will  hardly  account  for  the  wonderful  fact,  that  the 
one  should  have  been  kept  awake  an  hour  by 
noises,  which  the  other,  more  likely  to  be  dis 
turbed  by  them,  should  not  have  heard  at  all. 
But,  admitting  that  Professor  Plus  was  disturbed 
by  the  noise,  and  admitting  that  the  noise  was 
twice  as  loud  and  twice  as  long  continued  as  it  was, 
I  deny  his  right  to  come  into  another  professor's 
dormitory  to  suppress  it.  The  law  is  clear  upon 
this  point.  The  law  says,  that  there  shall  be  one 
professor  in  each  dormitory;  Professor  Plus  says 
there  shall  be  two — at  least  when  he  takes  a 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  35 7 

nervous  fit.  How  far  his  interference  with  Pro 
fessor  Syncope's  prerogative  comport  with  cour 
tesy  and  delicacy,  it  is  not  my  province  to  deter 
mine  ;  but  I  have  a  right  to  see  to  it  that  I  am  not 
injured  by  the  intrusion.  While  Professor  Plus 
was  in  that  dormitory,  I  regarded  him  as  no  pro 
fessor  at  all — as  having  no  right  to  enter  my  room. 
No  one  has  a  higher  respect  for  the  professors  of 
this  institution  than  I  have ;  but  when  a  professor 
so  far  forgets  his  high  and  dignified  position,  as  to 
turn  persecutor  of  those  over  whom  he  is  placed 
as  a  protector  and  instructor,  to  trample  the  law 
of  college  under  foot,  to  usurp  authority  which 
does  not  belong  to  him,  to  forget  the  comity  due 
to  his  associates,  to  pretend  to  superhuman 
powers  of  the  'olfactories,'  in  distinguishing  the 
odor  of  liquors  assailing  them  at  once  and  at  the 
same  time,  to  consort  with  owls,  bats,  wolves  and 
hyenas — " 

"  Stop ,  Mr.  Mitten, "  said  the  President,  "  I  can 
not  sit  here  and  hear  a  professor  so  grossly  insulted 
without  interposing  for  his  protection." 

"I  mentioned  no  names,"  said  Mitten,  "and 
if  the  cap  fits — " 

"I  hope,"  said  Professor  Plus,  smiling  in  com 
mon  with  the  other  professors,  "I  hope  that  the 
young  gentleman  will  be  permitted  to  finish  his 


353         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

speech.  I  speak  candidly  and  sincerely  when  I 
say  that  I  have  rarely,  if  ever,  had  such  an  intel 
lectual  entertainment  from  one  of  his  years.  I 
will  thank  him,  however,  to  explain  to  me  wherein 
I  assumed  the  character  of  a  '  persecutor.'  All 
the  rest  of  his  speech  I  understand  perfectly,  but 
as  to  this  part  I  am  wholly  in  the  dark. " 

"You  have  called  upon  Marshall,  Morton  and 
myself  to  recite  oftener  than  any  other  three  stu 
dents  in  the  class, "  said  Mitten. 

"I  was  not  apprised  of  that,"  returned  the 
professor,  "though  in  all  probability  it  is  true. 
The  class  is  alphabetically  arranged,  and  I  com 
monly  begin  the  recitation  first  at  one  extreme  of 
the  list,  then  at  the  other,  and  then  at  the  middle. 
It  is  frequently  the  case  that  there  are  not  proposi 
tions  enough  to  engage  the  whole  class,  and  when 
ever  that  is  the  case,  those  near  the  middle  will 
have  to  recite,  no  matter  at  which  end  I  begin. 
Now  as  Mitten's  name  stands  right  between  Mar 
shall's  and  Morton's,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  class, 
I  commonly  begin  at  him,  if  I  do  not  commence  at 
either  extreme,  and  if  I  go  up  from  him,  Morton 
will  not  be  called — if  I  go  down,  Marshall  will  not 
be.  This  will  explain  the  matter,  and  I  am  very 
happy  to  find  that  you  have  no  other  ground  to 
base  the  charge  of  persecution  upon  than  this. 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  359 

Time  was,  when  Mitten  regarded  it  no  persecu 
tion  to  be  called  on  often  to  recite. " 

"  How  much  oftener  have  Marshall  and  Morton 
been  called  up  than  the  rest  of  the  class?" 

"Once." 

"And  you?" 

"Twice." 

"Mr.  Mitten,"  said  the  President,  "you  will 
retire  if  you  please."  He  did  so,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  he  was  recalled  to  receive  the  judgment 
of  the  faculty,  which,  without  a  dissenting  voice, 
was  that  he  be  expelled.  In  delivering  the  sen 
tence  the  President  addressed  him  very  feelingly — 
deplored  the  abuses  to  which  he  was  subjecting 
his  extraordinary  mind,  and  exposed  the  absurdity 
of  any  student  supposing  that  a  professor  could 
take  up  a  prejudice  against  a  moral,  orderly  stu 
dent.  He  referred  to  a  law,  which  Mr.  Mitten  had 
entirely  overlooked,  making  it  the  general  duty  of 
all  the  professors  to  preserve  order  in  the  College, 
and  see  that  its  laws  were  obeyed.  The  President 
having  concluded, 

"  Dr.  S , "  said  Mitten,  "  will  you  favor  me  so 

far  as  to  tell  me  what  I  am  expelled  for? " 

"  Certainly, "  said  the  President ;  "for  keeping — 
or  if  you  like  the  term  better — for  having  a  dis 
orderly  room;  for  having  and  drinking  intoxi- 


360          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

eating  liquors  in  your  room,  for  gambling  in  your 
room,  and  for  grossly  insulting  a  professor  in  your 
room,  and  still  more  grossly  before  the  whole 
faculty/' 

"  Was  there  any  proof  that  I  drank  liquor. " 

"  No  positive  proof,  but  quite  enough  to  satisfy 
our  minds  of  it. " 

"Gambling  implies  that  we  played  for  money — 
was  there  any  proof  of  that? " 

"Abundant  proof;  but  we  have  not  time  now 
to  give  the  reasons  of  our  opinion  upon  the  several 
charges.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  you  have  not 
denied  a  single  one  of  them;  and  as  for  this  one, 
we  are  constrained  to  believe  that  six  young  gentle 
men  would  not  have  set  up  till  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning  playing  for  button-molds." 

"  But  four  of  them  had  actually  gone  to  bed, 
and  another  was  undressing  to  go  to  bed  when 
Professor  Plus  entered." 

"Yes,  but  they  must  have  sat  up  very  late;  for 
they  were  so  completely  exhausted  that  they 
could  not  take  time  to  undress;  and  so  sleepy, 
that  between  the  knock  at  the  door  and  the  open 
ing  of  it,  they  all  fell  sound  asleep.  They  monopo 
lized  all  the  beds  in  the  room,  too,  leaving  you  and 
your  studious  companion  no  place  to  sleep ;  which 
was  exceedingly  impolite,  to  say  the  least  of  it. 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  361 

And  here,   Mr.   Mitten,   is  the  end  of  questions 
and  answers." 

Mitten  retired  very  much  incensed,  and  appealed 
not  to  the  trustees,  but  to  his  fellow-students,  for 
justice.  Nine  espoused  his  cause.  They  dis 
guised  themselves,  serenaded  Professor  Plus  with 
tin  pans,  horns,  and  other  noisy  instruments, 
broke  his  windows,  broke  up  his  black-boards, 
and  placarded  him  in  various  ways  and  places. 
Six  were  detected  and  expelled,  of  whom  David 
Thomson  was  one.  Three  escaped  for  want  of 
proof  against  them.  Thus  far  Thomson  had 
been  hurried  on  by  blind  impulse;  but  now  the 
hour  of  sober  reason  had  returned,  and  he  was 
overwhelmed  with  the  troubles  which  gathered 
upon  him.  He  was  disgraced  near  the  close  of  a 
creditable  collegiate  career.  He  had  not  money 
to  bear  his  expenses  home.  He  looked  towards 
home  with  horror;  for  his  mother  was  no  Mrs. 
Mitten,  and  Mr.  Markham  was  a  faithful  represen 
tative  of  his  father,  and  there  was  the  mortifica 
tion  of  meeting  his  many  friends  and  his  father's 
friends  as  an  expelled  student.  As  his  troubles 
increased,  so  did  his  indignation  against  his 
cousin.  "William,"  said  he,  "had  you  followed 
Mr.  Markham 's  advice,  you  would  have  taken 
the  first  honor  in  your  class;  but  instead  of  that 


362         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

you  have  disgraced  yourself,  disgraced  me,  and 
got  five  more  of  your  fellow-students  expelled. 
Two  of  the  three  ring-leaders  in  the  scrape  have 
escaped,  while  the  rest  of  us  who  did  nothing  more 
than  join  in  the  serenade  are  dismissed.  Had 
Mr.  Markham  been  inspired,  he  could  not  have 
foreseen  our  difficulties  clearer,  or  advised  us  better 
about  them  than  he  did.  What  benefit  has  our 
frolic  been  to  you?  How  much  has  it  injured 
Plus?  You  were  justly  punished  and  you  know 
it;  and  I  know  it;  and  suppose  you  had  been 
unjustly  punished,  how  could  such  foolery  as  we 
went  through  better  your  case?  Bad  luck  attends 
everyone  who  links  himself  to  you.  What  am 
I  to  do?  I've  not  money  enough  to  carry  me 
home." 

"I've  got  nearly  enough  to  carry  us  both  home, 
and  I  can  borrow— 

"And  where  did  you  get  it?  You  won  it:  and 
I  will  not  touch  a  cent  of  it.  I'll  tell  you  what 
I'm  going  to  do;  I'm  going  to  acknowledge  my 
fault,  promise  strict  observance  of  the  rules  of  the 
college  for  the  future,  and  beg  the  faculty  to  restore 
me " 

"  Is  there  a  man  in  whose  veins  the  Thomson 
blood  runs  who  can  let  himself  down  so  low  as 
that?" 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  363 

"Yes,  and  I  am  that  man.  I  have  done  wrong, 
and  why  not  confess  it?  I  will  confess  it  to  every 
body  else  who  cannot  help  me;  why  not  confess 
it  to  the  faculty  who  may  help  me? " 

"Well,  if  you  can  truckle  to  men  who  have 
treated  your  cousin  as  the  faculty  has  treated  me, 
you  can  do  so;  but  if  you  do,  I  can  never  feel  to 
you  again  as  a  cousin— 

"Well,  then  we  shall  be  even,  for  I  certainly 
do  not  feel  to  you  as  a  cousin — " 

"You  don't?" 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Then,  good  morning,  Mr.  Thomson.  You 
can  shape  your  course  as  you  please,  and  I'll  do 
the  same. " 

Thomson  followed  his  better  judgment;  and 
the  faculty,  in  consideration  of  his  previous  good 
conduct,  that  he  had  never  been  charged  with 
an  offence  before  — and  that  he  was  nearly  related 
to  Mitten,  and  therefore  exposed  to  the  peculiar 
temptation  from  him — commuted  the  punishment 
from  expulsion  to  three  weeks'  suspension.  He 
rejoiced  at  this  good  fortune,  and  thenceforward 
improved  it  through  life.  Two  of  his  companions 
in  guilt  tried  the  same  experiment;  but  as  they 
had  nothing  to  recommend  them  to  clemency, 
their  sentence  was  unchanged. 


364         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"And  there  is  Nassau  Hall  justice,"  said  one  of 
them.  "Two  students  in  precisely  the  same 
predicament,  one  expelled,  and  the  other  sus 
pended  for  three  weeks!  A  glorious  college  this!" 

Mr.  Mitten  waited  on  Miss  Ward,  and  informed 
her  of  "the  injustice  that  had  been  done  him." 

"  It  only  gives  me,  dear  William, "  said  she,  "  an 
opportunity  of  proving  the  sincerity  of  my  attach 
ment.  As  the  ivy  clings  to  the  beauteous  column, 
whether  erect,  careening,  or  prostrate,  so  my 
heart's  affection  clings  to  my  William,  through 
all  the  changes  of  life.  There  is  a  sweet  comfort 
mingled  with  the  bitterness  of  your  misfortune, 
my  idol :  it  is,  that  the  hour  which  is  to  unite  our 
hearts  in  the  golden  chain  of  wedlock  will  be 
hastened  a  full  year  and  a  half  or  more. " 

William  looked  up  to  the  ceiling,  as  if  he 
expected  to  see  the  gold  chain  up  there;  and 
Amanda  took  his  upturned  face  as  an  indication  of 
heavenly  aspiration,  and  wept. 

"I  must  tear  myself  from  you,  Amanda,"  said 
William,  presenting  his  hand  and  lips.  She  threw 
her  arms  around  him,  then  he  threw  his  arm 
around  her. 

They  kissed. 

"Another,"  said  Amanda. 

"  And  yet  another. " 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  365 

And  then  a  long,  long,  "  farewell!" 

She  dropped  her  head  on  his  bosom  and 
wept.  William  covered  his  face  with  his  hand 
kerchief,  blew  his  nose  twice,  sympathetically, 
heaved  theatrically,  and  waited  a  sign  that  the 
tragedy  was  over.  But  as  no  sign  came,  he 
said: 

"  We  must  part,  Amanda.  I  never  shall  forget 
you — your  all-confiding  nature,  your  tender, 
warm-hearted  love. " 

Here  an  honest  tear  filled  his  eye,  conscience 
stung  him,  shame  reddened  his  cheeks,  and  he  gave 
her  a  strong,  remorse-forced  embrace,  and  tore 
himself  from  her,  in  truth.  As  he  left  the  door, 
he  muttered : 

"  Love  like  that  deserves  a  better  return.  How 
sincere,  how  ardent!  How  sweet  her  breath,  how 
fervid  her  embrace,  how  eloquent  her  grief!  And 
yet  they  made  no  more  impression  on  me,  until  I 
began  to  utter  literal  truths  and  mental  lies  as  a 
return  for  her  affection,  than  the  dew-drop  makes 
upon  the  flinty  rocks!  Heavens  and  earth!  What 
progress  I  am  making  in  iniquity!  I  am  already  a 
very  devil !  A  deceiver  of  those  who  love  me  most 
— my  mother — Amanda.  I  must  not  reckon  up 
my  iniquities,  or  they  will  addle  my  brain  or  drive 
me  to  suicide." 


366         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

He  reached  his  room,  paced  it  a  while  in  anguish, 
then  seated  himself  and  wrote: 

"  My  dearest  Louisa.  Ill  health  drives  me  from 
college— 

" Another  He!"  said  he,  flinging  down  the  pen 
and  rising  furiously.  "  How  sin  begets  sin, "  con 
tinued  he,  with  hurried  strides  over  the  room. 

It  was  long  before  he  could  return  to  his  letter ; 
and  when  he  did,  it  was  only  to  add : 

"  To-morrow  I  leave  for  Georgia,  whence  you 
will  hear  from  me  more  fully  and  more  affection 
ately,  on  my  arrival." 

"  There, "  said  he,  "  there  is  my  last  lie,  at  least. 
I'll  go  home,  reform,  marry  Louisa,  and  lead  a  new 
life." 

He  set  out  for  Georgia  the  next  day,  and  reached 
home  without  delay  or  accident.  The  Sanford 
draft  had  preceded  him  just  two  days.  His 
mother  paid  it  promptly,  and  had  just  closed  a 
long,  tear-bedewed  letter  to  him,  when  he  rushed 
into  the  room,  and  advanced  to  embrace  her.  He 
did  embrace  her,  just  in  time  to  save  her  from 
falling  to  the  floor,  for  she  had  swooned  at  the 
first  sight  of  him.  Assistance  was  called,  and  she 
was  put  to  bed.  She  revived,  embraced  her  child 
and  swooned  again.  The  doctors  advised  him  to 
retire  from  her  bedside,  until  she  recovered 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  367 

strength  to  receive  him.  So  long  did  the  second 
paroxysm  continue  that  even  the  physicians 
began  to  fear  that  life  was  extinct.  She  did 
revive,  however,  like  one  awaking  out  of  a  sweet 
sleep.  Casting  her  eyes  around  the  room,  she 
whispered : 

"  Have  they  taken  him  away  from  me  already? " 

"  He  is  near  at  hand,  Mrs.  Mitten, "  said  a 
physician,  "and  will  be  introduced  again  as  soon 
as  you  become  a  little  more  composed." 

"I  am  perfectly  composed  now,"  said  she,  in 
the  same  subdued  tone,  "let  him  come  in.  Do 
you  know  what  brought  him  home  so  soon?" 

"  No,  Mrs.  Mitten,  your  physicians  know  better 
when  you  will  be  prepared  to  receive  him  than  you 
do,  and  we  hope  you  will  put  yourself  under  our 
direction." 

"  Certainly  I  will,  Doctor.  I  am  a  poor,  weak 
woman.  I  try  to  do  right,  but  I  am  always  doing 
wrong.  Let  it  be  as  soon  as  you  can,  Doctor ;  but 
don't  yield  your  judgment  to  mine,  for  I  have  no 
confidence  in  my  opinions.  I  followed  brother's 
advice  while  he  lived,  and  Mr.  Markham's  after 
he  died,  and  I  don't  know  what  better  I  could 
have  done.  I  feel  a  great  deal  better  now,  Doctor; 
don't  you  think  I  am?  I  think  I  could  see  him 
now  calmly;  if  nothing  had  brought  him  home." 


368         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

One  of  the  physicians  withdrew  to  William's 
room. 

"William,"  said  he,  "for  your  mother's  sake 
I  enquire  of  you,  what  brought  you  home  so 
soon?" 

"I  was  expelled  from  college,"  said  William. 
"  I  need  not  try  to  conceal  it,  for  it  must  be 
known." 

"William,"  continued  the  doctor,  "if  you  tell 
your  mother  that,  I'm  confident  she  will  not 
survive  it  an  hour.  She  has  been  declining  in 
health  for  several  months,  and  your  sudden 
appearance  to  her  has  brought  her  to  the  very 
brink  of  the  grave — 

"Then,  I  suppose,  to  the  long  list  of  my  lies  I 
must  add  another  to  a  dying  mother." 

"Why,  William,  you  shock  me!" 

"I  wish  heaven's  lightning  would  'shock'  me, 
even  unto  death.  What  I  came  into  the  world  for, 
I  don't  know,  and  the  sooner  I  go  out  of  it  the 
better  for  both  the  world  and  myself,  I  reckon." 

"  Compose  yourself,  William,  and  if  we  send  for 
you,  approach  your  mother  with  as  much  self- 
composure  as  possible- 
Just  here  the  doctor  was  sent  for  in  haste.  He 
returned  to  Mrs.  Mitten,  and  found  her  sinking, 
and  begging  to  see  her  son.  He  was  sent  for,  and 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  369 

his  approach  to  her  was  with  marvelous  self- 
command. 

She  reached  forth  her  arms  to  him,  and  he 
gently  bent  himself  to  their  embrace.  She  held 
him  long  to  her  bosom,  a  flood  of  tears  came  to 
her  relief,  and  she  brightened  wonderfully.  Re 
leasing  and  gazing  on  him  for  a  moment,  she  said: 

"My  dear  boy,  you  are  wonderfully  improved 
in  appearance." 

By  this  time  the  room  was  thronged  with 
visitors.  The  doctors  requested  them  to  with 
draw,  in  order  that  Mrs.  Mitten  might  be  undis 
turbed,  and  if  possible,  gain  sleep. 

"Let  William  and  Mr.  Markham  remain,"  said 
she. 

The  rest  retired. 

"Mr.  Markham,"  said  she,  "I  am  very  weak. 
I  do  not  think  the  doctors  know  how  extremely 
ill  I  am.  Be  as  you  have  been  for  a  few  years 
past,  and  as  you  would  have  ever  been  but  for 
my  folly,  a  father  to  my  boy;  and,  William, 
regard  Mr.  Markham  as  your  father,  and  follow  his 
counsels  in  all  things.  Mr.  Markham,  pray  with 
us.  Give  thanks  for  the  safe  return  of  my  boy, 
and  that  I  have  been  permitted  to  see  him  once 
more  before  I  leave  the  world.  What  fortune 
brings  him  home  so  suddenly  I  know  not,  but  it 

24 


370         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

is  good  fortune  to  me,  for  without  it  I  am  sure  I 
should  never  have  seen  him  again.  Give  me 
your  hand  and  kneel,  William.  Pray,  Mr.  Mark- 
ham." 

As  they  bowed,  William  thought  of  Mr.  Mark- 
ham's  parting  prayer,  and  the  counsels  that 
preceded  it,  of  his  abuses  of  those  counsels,  and 
the  bitter  consequences;  and  his  bosom  heaved 
with  indescribable  emotions.  His  mother  gave  his 
hand  a  quick  emphatic  pressure  at  every  petition 
which  she  would  have  him  notice  particularly. 
These  signals  of  attention  became  less  and  less 
sensible  as  the  prayer  progressed,  till  just  before 
its  conclusion  they  ceased — entirely  her  grasp 
relaxed,  and  her  hand  lay  motionless  and  almost 
lifeless  upon  that  of  her  son.  Mr.  Markham  and 
William  rose,  turned  their  eyes  to  the  gentle 
sufferer,  and  saw  on  her  countenance  every  mark 
of  immediate  dissolution.  They  called  for  the 
doctors — they  came,  and  reached  her  bed  just  in 
time  to  hear  her  last  words : 

"  William — meet  me  in — " 

The  sentence  was  never  finished.  The  sweetest f 
the  kindest,  the  gentlest,  the  holiest  of  the 
village  was  gone!  We  will  not  pretend  to  de 
scribe  the  scenes  which  followed.  Her  daugh 
ters  and  sons-in-law  came  but  to  pour  tears  upon 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  37 1 

her  mortal  remains,  as  they  reposed  in  the  coffin. 
The  elder  sister  and  her  husband  took  charge 
of  the  house;  the  other  two  remained  a  few 
days,  then  left  for  their  residence.  William  took 
his  room,  and  never  left  it  for  nearly  a  month, 
save  to  tread  pensively  the  walks  of  the  garden. 
At  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  he  addressed  a  letter  to 
Miss  Green,  reporting  his  mother's  death,  and 
telling  her  that  she  was  the  last  and  strongest 
tie  that  bound  him  to  earth,  and  his  only  hope  of 
heaven.  In  due  time  he  received  an  answer, 
expressing  the  tenderest  sympathy  for  him  in 
his  bereavement,  and  concluding  as  follows*: 

"I  have  been  tormented  by  strange  reports 
concerning  you  which  I  cannot,  I  will  not,  believe 
until  they  receive  some  confirmation  from  your 
own  lips.  I  will  not  aggravate  your  griefs  by 
repeating  them  now,  farther  than  just  to  say, 
that  if  true,  your  last  brief  epistle  from  Princeton 
was  untrue. 

"  With  unabated  love, 

"YOUR  LOUISA." 

Miss  Green's  letter  filled  Mitten's  bosom  with 
horror.  "What  a  thoughtless  fool  I  was,"  said 
he,  "to  write  that  useless  lie  to  her!  I  ought  to 
have  known  that  she  would  soon  learn  the  true 
cause  of  my  sudden  departure  from  Princeton! 


372         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Why  did  I  not  forestall  public  report  by  a  frank 
confession  of  the  truth,  and  offer  such  justification 
of  myself  as  I  could?  True  it  is,  that  when  a  man 
turns  rogue,  he  turns  fool,  and  no  less  true  is  it, 
that  when  a  man  turns  liar  he  turns  fool.  It  will 
almost  take  my  life  to  lose  Louisa;  but  I  deserve 
to  lose  her,  that  I  may  learn  what  it  is  to  have  one's 
holiest  feelings  and  brightest  hopes  trifled  with. 
I  will  write  to  Louisa,  make  a  frank  confession  of 
my  errors,  vow  eternal  divorce  from  them,  and 
promise  to  be  anything  and  everything  that  she 
would  have  me  to  be,  if  she  will  remain  steadfast 
to  her  engagement. "  He  did  so,  and  indeed,  made 
the  most  of  his  case  that  could  be  made  of  it.  The 
answer  came  : 

"MR.  WILLIAM  MITTEN — Sir:  Your  dismissal 
from  college,  and  your  misrepresentation  to  me,  I 
could  forgive;  but  I  never  can  forgive  your  ad 
dresses  to  me  while  you  were  actually  engaged  to 
Miss  Amanda  Ward.  "Your  abused 

"LOUISA." 

"All  is  lost!"  exclaimed  he,  flinging  down  the 
letter.  "How  did  she  find  out  the  engagement? 
Amanda  herself  must  have  informed  her  of  it." 

This  was  not  true.  The  engagement  carne  to 
Miss  Green's  ears  on  this  wise:  Mitten's  attentions 
to  Miss  Ward  were  notorious,  and  her  disrelish  for 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  373 

any  society  but  his  was  equally  notorious.  From 
these  facts,  the  inference  was  drawn  by  many  that 
they  were  engaged.  What  was  stated  at  first  as 
a  matter  of  inference,  soon  began  to  be  stated  as  a 
matter  of  fact.  As  it  was  contradicted  by  no  one, 
it  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  thing  universally  ad 
mitted.  So  Rumor  bore  it  to  Miss  Green's  ears. 
The  mischievous  jade  was  no  less  cruel  to  Miss 
Ward  than  she  was  to  Miss  Green ;  for  she  reported 
to  her  that  Mr.  Mitten  was  in  regular  corres 
pondence  with  Miss  Green,  from  his  return  to 
Princeton  to  his  departure  for  Georgia.  Amanda 
drooped  under  the  tidings — became  sedate  and 
pensive,  gave  her  heart  to  One  who  better  de 
served  it  than  her  lover,  fixed  her  adoration  on 
the  proper  Object,  moved  among  the  poor  and 
afflicted  like  an  angel  of  Mercy,  lived  to  be  uni 
versally  beloved,  kindly  rejected  many  a  wooer, 
and  died  smiling,  where  Mary  sat  weeping. 

The  report  went  abroad  that  William  had 
broken  his  mother's  heart.  This  was  nearly,  but 
not  quite  true.  Mrs.  Mitten's  health  had  begun 
to  decline  before  William's  troubles  began,  and  it 
is  probable  that  she  would  not  have  survived  a 
month  longer  than  she  did  had  William  remained 
at  Princeton.  But  she  had  become  uneasy  at  the 
silence  of  his  college  companions,  concerning  him, 


374         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

for  some  months  past.     The  tone  of  his  letters  had 
changed   alarmingly.     Then   his  heavy  drafts  on 
her  for  money  increased  her    alarms.     Then  the 
Sanders  draft  added  poignant  mortification  to  her 
distressing  fears  and  anxieties.     All  these  things 
were  wasting  her  away  rapidly,  when  his  abrupt 
appearance  to  her  filled  her  with  emotions  which 
her  feeble  frame  could  not  endure.     His  conduct 
certainly  shortened  her  days ;  but  it  could  not  with 
propriety  be  said  that  he  broke  her  heart.     Still, 
so  went  the  report  and  it  gained  strength  from  his 
remarks  to  the  doctor,  which  were  overheard  by  a 
visitor,  and  went  forth  with  exaggerations.     The 
consequence  was,  that  when  he  began  to  mingle 
with  the  villagers  there  was  something  so  cold  and 
distant  in  their  greetings,  so  formal  and  cautious 
in  their  conversation,  that  he  recoiled  from  their 
society,  shut  himself  up  in  his  room,  brooded  over 
his  misfortunes  for  a  time,  became  enraged  at  the 
treatment  of  his  old  friends,  and  with  a  heroism 
worthy  of  a  better  cause,  he  resolved  to  retaliate 
upon  them.     He  went  forth  boldly  among  them, 
treated  all    coldly,  and    some  rudely;  made  ad 
vances  to    no  one;  stepped  loftily  and  independ 
ently,  and  resolved  to  hold  every  man  personally 
responsible  to  him  who  had  taken  the  liberty  of 
using  his  name    otherwise   than  with   the    pro- 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  375 

foundest  respect.  The  young  gentleman  had 
undertaken  an  Herculean  task,  but  he  deemed 
himself  adequate  to  it,  and  acted  accordingly. 
He  called  the  doctor  to  account  for  circulating 
remarks  made  by  him  "under  great  excitement 
and  distress,  which  any  man  of  common  humanity 
would  never  have  thought  of  repeating."  The 
doctor  declared  that  he  never  had  repeated  them. 
Mr.  Mitten  told  him  that  "  it  was  not  worth  while 
to  add  the  sin  of  falsehood  to  the  sin  of  brutality, 
for  no  one  else  could  have  mentioned  them." 

Anderson's  remarks  also  became  town  talk,  as 
soon  as  it  was  known  that  Mitten  had  "backed 
down ' '  in  the  ' '  third  heat. ' '  He  went  to  Anderson 
in  great  rage. 

"  I  understand,  sir, "  said  he,  "  that  you  have  been 
making  very  free  with  my  name  in  my  absence." 

"No,  Billy,  I  only  said— " 

"  Don't  call  me  Billy,  sir—" 

"Well,  General  Washington—11 

"Stop,  sir!  But  for  your  age,  I'd  give  you  a 
caning.  And  now,  listen  to  me,  sir:  If  ever  I 
hear  of  your  mentioning  my  name  in  any  way,  I 
shall  forget  the  respect  due  to  age,  and  give  you  a 
chastising,  let  it  cost  what  it  may.  If  you  must 
expend  your  race-course  wit,  expend  it  on  some 
one  else,  not  on  me. " 


376         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"When  you  undertake  to  chastise  me,"  said 
Stewy,  " you'd  better  appoint  your  executors: 
for  they'll  have  to  wind  up  the  business." 

Thus  Mr.  Mitten  went  on  rectifying  public 
opinion  and  purifying  private  conversation,  until 
there  were  but  five  persons  in  the  village  or  its 
vicinity  who  could  venture  to  be  upon  terms  of 
intimacy  with  him.  These  five,  two  old  men  and 
three  young  ones,  conceived  a  marvelous  attach 
ment  for  him.  They  forced  themselves  into  his 
affections  by  a  thousand  kind  sayings  of  him,  and 
as  many  harsh  ones  of  all  who  kept  aloof  from  him. 

"  Never  mind,  Mitten,"  said  one  of  the  ancients; 
"  as  soon  as  you  get  possession  of  your  property, 
these  very  men  who  are  shying  off  from  you  now, 
and  whispering  all  sorts  of  things  about  you,  will 
be  truckling  to  you  like  hound  puppies.  They 
hate  me  worse  than  they  do  you,  just  because  I 
always  take  up  for  you.  I  see  how  they  look  at 
me,  every  time  they  see  me  with  you.  I  despise 
those  old  men  who  forget  that  they  were  once 
young,  and  make  no  allowance  for  a  little  wildness 
in  young  men." 

"  Well,"  said  a  young  one,  "I'm  glad  to  see  Mit 
ten's  independence.  He  is  not  beholden  to  them 
for  anything,  and  I  like  to  see  him  going  his  own 
way,  and  taking  care  of  himself." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE    377 

"Mitten,"  said  a  third,  "we  are  going  into 
Thew's  back  room  to  amuse  ourselves  with  a  game 
of  cards  for  an  hour  or  so ;  where  shall  I  find  you 
when  we  come  out?" 

"Why,"  said  William,  "I'll  go  with  you." 

"  You'd  better  not, "  said  two  or  three  voices  at 
once. 

"You  might  be  tempted  to  play,"  said  Old 
Fogy,  "  and  when  once  a  young  man  begins  to  play 
cards,  he  never  knows  where  to  stop.  Could  you 
do  as  we  do,  just  sit  down  and  amuse  yourself 
for  an  hour  or  two  and  then  get  up  and  quit,  why 
that  would  be  all  well  enough;  but  young  people 
are  riot  like  old  folks." 

"Well,"  continued  William,  "I'll  go  in  and  see 
you  play,  but  I  will  not  play  myself,  for  I  have 
suffered  enough  from  card-playing  for  one  life 
time,  I  know." 

"Oh,  well,  if  you'll  do  that,  no  harm  done." 

William  went  in,  and  kept  his  word. 

The  same  scene  was  repeated  for  a  number  of 
days.  At  length  William  began  to  spend  his  opin 
ion  upon  the  play  of  one  and  another,  demon 
strating  by  the  doctrine  of  chances  that  they  were 
injudicious. 

"  It  is  lucky  for  us,  Mitten,  that  you  don't  play, 
or  you'd  soon  leave  us  without  a  stake.  We  know 


378          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

nothing  about  book-learning,  and  just  thump 
away  after  our  old  plantation  way.  Old  as  I  am, 
I'd  give  the  world  if  I  only  had  your  education." 

Day  after  day  rolled  away  in  like  manner. 

At  length  said  William,  "  Let  me  take  a  hand, 
and  see  if  my  theory  holds  good  in  practice." 

"  Oh,  no ! "  exclaimed  half  of  them.  "  He'll  beat 
us  all  to  death.  What  do  we  know  about  the 
doctrine  of  chances?" 

"  Mitten, "  said  Old  Fogy,  "  don't  play.  I'm  an 
old  man,  and  though  I  don't  know  anything  about 
chances,  I  know  that  the  cards  run  so  sometimes 
that  there  is  no  counting  on  them.  Now,  you  are 
a  high-minded,  honorable  young  man,  and  if  you 
should  happen  to  lose  largely,  you  would  be 
strongly  tempted  to  refuse  to  pay,  plead  infancy, 
the  gaming  act,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  even 
when  you  got  able  to  pay,  and  I  wouldn't  lose  my 
good  opinion  of  you  for  all  the  money  in  the 
country." 

"  I  hope,  Mr.  Fogy,  you  don't  think  I'd  do  that. " 

"  No,  I  know  you'd  die  now  before  you'd  do  it, 
but  temptations  are  hard  things  to  get  over.  I 
talked  just  so  to  young  Tickler,  as  honorable  a 
young  fellow  as  ever  was  born,  and  what  did  he  do? 
Why  he  won  of  me  day  after  day,  and  week  after 
week ;  but  when  the  cards  took  a  turn  in  my  favor 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  379 

he  refused  to  pay  the  little  nasty  sum  of  one  thou 
sand  dollars,  when  he  was  worth  forty  thousand. 
I  never  asked  him  for  it  till  he  got  his  property 
in  hand,  and  then  he  said  that  I  had  tempted  him 
to  play  and  cheated  him,  and  I  don't  know  what 
all.  I  wouldn't  have  lost  my  good  opinion  of  that 
young  man  for  double  the  money." 

"Well,"   said  Mitten,  "I  am  not  anxious  to 
play. "     And  he  did  not. 

Mitten's  company  and  back-room  sittings  com 
ing  to  the  ears  of  Mr.  Markham,  he  warned  William 
against  his  associates.  He  told  him  that  they  were 
a  set  of  sharpers  who  would  certainly  ruin  him  if 
he  did  not  abandon  them. 

"Mr.  Markham,"  said  William,  "these  are  the 
only  men  of  the  village,  except  yourself,  who  have 
treated  me  with  any  respect  and  kindness  since  my 
return  home.  You  mistake  their  character.  They 
play  cards,  it  is  true,  but  so  far  from  tempting  me 
to  do  the  same,  they  advise  me  not  to  do  it;  and 
consequently  I  have  not  thrown  a  card  since  my 
association  with  them.  1  should  be  an  ingrate 
and  a  fool  to  abandon  the  only  friends  who  stood 
by  me  when  all  the  rest  of  the  world  abandoned 
me." 

Mr.  Markham  told  him  their  friendships  were 
pretended,  their  professions  unreal,  and  their 


380         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

counsels  hypocritical.  In  short,  he  used  every 
argument  and  entreaty  that  he  could  to  withdraw 
him  from  these  men,  but  all  was  unavailing. 

About  this  time  his  college  companions  re 
turned,  having  completed  their  course.  Brown 
had  taken  the  first  honor  in  his  class,  and  Mark- 
ham  had  taken  the  third.  Thomson  graduated 
creditably,  but  took  no  honor. 

The  day  after  their  arrival  Thomson  presented 
Mitten  a  beautiful  box. 

"And  who  sent  this?"     asked  Mitten. 

"Open  it  and  see,"  said  his  cousin. 

He  opened  it,  and  saw  all  the  jewelry  that  he 
had  given  to  Amanda.  On  the  top  of  it  lay  a 
small  note  of  velvet  paper  prettily  folded.  He 
opened  and  read: 

"  Let  them  follow  the  heart  of  the  giver. 

"AMANDA." 

"  How  did  she  seem,  David,  when  she  handed  it 
to  you?" 

"  Heart-broken. " 

"Yes,  poor  girl!  Had  I  remained  true  to  her 
she  would  not  have  forsaken  me,  as  all  my  colder 
friends  have  done.  In  a  little  time,  now,  I  could 
have  made  her  comfortable  and  happy,  and  for  all 
time  she  would  have  made  me  happy." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  381 

Tears  rolled  rapidly  down  his  cheeks  as  he 
spoke. 

Mr.  Markham  turned  over  his  school  and  the 
profits  of  it  to  his  son  and  Brown — he  only  retain 
ing  such  a  supervision  over  it  as  to  pass  it  as  his 
school.  The  first  studied  medicine,  and  the 
second  law  while  teaching.  In  a  little  time 
Brown  fixed  up  a  comfortable  little  residence  for 
his  mother,  and  furnished  it  quite  neatly.  He 
gave  his  sisters  the  benefit  of  a  good  Female 
Academy,  and  extended  their  education  by  his 
own  private  instruction.  David  Thomson  be 
came  the  head  of  his  father's  family,  and  trod 
in  the  footsteps  of  his  father  through  life.  William 
continued  his  unlucky  association. 

One  day,  while  he  was  looking  on  at  the  game  of 
his  friends: 

"Here,  Mitten,"  said  one  of  the  seniors,  "play 
my  hand  for  me,"  rising  and  going  out. 

On  his  return,  another  addressed  him,  saying: 

"  Look  here,  old  man,  take  your  seat  there  and 
play  your  own  hand;  we  can't  play  with  Mitten." 

Mitten  had  won  ten  dollars  while  representing 
his  old  friend. 

"  Lord, "  said  another,  "  what  a  benefit  an  educa 
tion  is  in  everything!" 

William  now  proposed  to  take  a  hand  for  himself. 


382          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"Well,"  one  said,  "we  needn't  object  on  his 
account  if  we  don't  object  on  our  own,  for  there  is 
no  danger  of  his  losing. " 

William  played,  and  won  a  little.  So  did  he  for 
five  or  six  sittings.  Then  his  winnings  and  losings 
began  to  balance  each  other  pretty  equally.  Then 
he  began  to  lose  regularly,  but  in  small  amounts — 
then  in  larger  amounts. 

About  this  time  Mr.  Mitten  made  divers  re 
markable  discoveries,  to  wit :  That  whenever  he 
lost,  one  of  the  old  ones  and  one  of  the  young 
ones  lost,  but  they  won  in  regular  succession,  so 
that,  at  the  end  of  a  week's  play,  he  owed  (for 
they  "played  on  tick,")  each  of  them  almost  ex 
actly  the  same  amount.  That  though  they  often 
played  against  all  the  doctrines  of  chance,  they 
were  very  sure  to  win.  That  the  young  one  would 
frequently  relieve  himself  from  the  fatigues  of  the 
game  by  playing  the  fiddle  and  walking  round 
the  table,  and  that  so  long  as  he  played  the  fiddle, 
he  (Mitten)  was  certain  to  lose.  That  the  other 
two  young  ones  lost  and  won  occasionally,  but  in 
the  long  run  were  like  himself,  losers,  and  that 
their  losses  like  his  own  were  the  equal  gain  of  the 
other  three. 

Now  prudence  dictated  that  he  should  quit  this 
clique,  but  he  was  largely  over  a  thousand  dol- 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE   383 

lars  in  debt  to  the  trio,  and  he  could  not  gain  his 
consent  to  do  so  until  he  recovered  his  losses.  At 
a  convenient  session  he  took  his  fellow-sufferers 
aside,  informed  them  of  his  discoveries,  and  pro 
posed  to  them  that  they  should  play  in  co-partner 
ship  against  the  other  three  "only  till  they  got 
back  their  money. "  They  readily  assented  to  his 
proposition,  and  William  indoctrinated  them  in  a 
set  of  signs,  offensive  and  defensive,  that  in  a 
better  cause  would  have  immortalized  him.  He 
cautioned  them  to  wait  the  signal  from  him  before 
they  put  any  of  their  plans  of  attack  in  operation, 
and  in  the  meantime,  to  act  wholly  on  the  de 
fensive. 

The  parties  met,  and  Old  Fogy  entertained  the 
company  with  an  account  of  his  early  adventures 
at  the  card  table,  in  which  was  this  passage :  "I 
lost,  and  lost,  and  lost.  Dollar  after  dollar  went, 
and  negro  after  negro.  I  bore  it  all  like  a  man 
until  I  had  to  sell  my  favorite  servant,  Simon. 
This  was  tough,  but  I  had  to  sacrifice  him  or  my 
honor,  so  I  let  him  go." 

The  club  took  their  seats.  Two  hours  rolled 
away,  and  the  seniors  gained  nothing  from  the 
juniors.  The  fiddler  got  fatigued  and  took  his 
fiddle.  The  juniors,  as  if  by  accident,  hid  their 
hands  every  time  he  walked  behind  them.  He 


STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 


soon  got  rested,  and  resumed  his  seat.  At  twelve 
o'clock  at  night,  the  juniors  being  a  little  winners, 
Mitten  got  too  sleepy  to  set  any  longer,  and  the 
game  closed.  Five  sittings  ended  nearly  in  the 
same  way  to  the  utter  amazement  of  the  seniors. 

"The  young  rascals  have  found  out  our  signs," 
said  Old  Fogy,  "we  must  make  new  ones." 

They  did  so.  Mitten  discovered  it  in  about 
three  deals. 

"This  is  a  piddling  sort  o'  business,"  said 
Fogy;  "let's  play  higher." 

William  had  not  only  concerted  his  signs  in  a 
masterly  manner,  but  he  had  a  way  of  communi 
cating  to  his  partners  the  most  important  signs 
of  their  adversaries  as  soon  as  he  discovered  them. 
While  he  was  making  his  discoveries  his  party 
lost  a  little. 

"  I  don't  like  to  raise  the  stakes  when  I'm  losing," 
said  William,  "but  luck  must  turn  soon,  and  that 
will  be  the  quickest  way  of  getting  back  my 
losings,  and  I  believe  I'm  willing  to  play  a  little 
higher." 

Old  Fogy  put  up  the  stakes  very  high,  and 
William  gave  the  signal  for  attack  with  all  his 
armory.  In  less  than  an  hour,  the  corn  (repre 
senting  money)  was  streaming  from  the  Fogy 
party  in  a  perfect  sluice.  Mitten  lost  to  his  part- 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  385 

ners  two  hundred  dollars,  and  the  Fogies  lost  to 
them  from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  each. 
At  one  o'clock,  A.  M.,  Mitten  rose  from  the  table 
saying:  "That  his  brain  was  so  addled  he 
couldn't  play;  and  that  if  he  could,  such  a  run  of 
luck  would  ruin  the  best  player  in  the  world." 

It  would  be  both  interesting  and  instructive  to 
the  young,  to  trace  Mitten's  progress  step  by  step 
in  gaming,  until  he  became  a  most  accomplished 
blackleg;  but  our  limits  will  not  allow  us  to  do  so. 
He  was  in  rapid  progress  to  this  distinction  when 
Miss  Flora  Summers,  j  daughter  of  Colonel  Mark 
Summers,  who  resided  five  miles  from  the  village, 
returned  home  from  kalem,  N.  C.  She  was  an 
only  child,  handsome; '  agreeable  in  manners,  of 
good  sense  and  well  improved  mind.  William 
visited  her,  and  so  did  John  Brown,  now  admitted 
to  the  bar  and  practising  with  brilliant  promise. 
The  Colonel  received  Brown  with  great  cordiality, 
and  William  with  distant  civility.  Flora  re 
versed  things  exactly.  The  Colonel  was  not  sur 
prised  at  her  preference,  but  before  it  had  time  to 
ripen  into  love,  he  thus  addressed  her:  "My 
daughter,  it  may  be  that  Mitten  and  Brown  will 
become  suitors  of  yours.  I  do  not  say  to  you,  in 
that  event,  marry  Brown ;  but  I  do  say  to  you,  do 
not  marry  Mitten,  if  you  would  save  yourself  and 

25 


386         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

me  from  misery  intolerable.  You  know  his 
history  in  part.  If  he  did  not  break  his  mother's 
heart,  he  hastened  her  death.  He  has  rendered 
himself  odious  to  all  good  men,  and  become  the 
associate  of  gamblers.  And  yet  he  is  a  young 
man  of  handsome  person,  fine  address  and  fine 
talents.  These  endowments  are  apt  to  win  upon  a 
girl's  heart;  but  surely  my  daughter  can  fortify 
her  heart  against  dangerous  impressions  from  such 
a  man  as  Mitten." 

"Yes,  pa,"  said  Flora,  "I  can  and  I  will.  I 
assure  you  that  I  will  never  give  my  hand  to 
William." 

"Then,  without  feigning  an  attachment  that 
you  do  not  feel,  give  him  the  earliest  opportunity 
of  declaring  himself,  and  let  your  refusal  be  re 
spectful  but  decisive." 

"  I  will.  It  will  cost  me  no  difficulty  to  refuse 
Mitten;  but  I  don't  think  I  ever  can  love  John 
Brown.  Dear  me,  pa,  he  is  so  ugly!" 

"  Well,  my  child,  be  that  as  you  would  have  it. 
I  certainly  shall  not  urge  you  to  have  Brown  or 
anybody  else.  Your  choice  will  be  mine,  provided 
your  choice  does  not  light  upon  one  of  despicable 
character. " 

Mitten  repeated  his  visits,  and  was  received  more 
warmly  by  the  Colonel  than  at  first.  In  process  of 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE  387 

time  he  declared  himself  and  was  positively  re 
jected.  Brown  continued  his  visits  too,  but  at 
much  longer  intervals.  His  fame  in  the  meantime 
was  constantly  growing.  His  manners  were  not 
wanting  in  polish,  and  in  intellectual  endowment 
he  now  far  outstripped  Mitten.  His  visits  for 
five  or  six  months  seemed  only  of  a  friendly 
character.  He  read  well  and  talked  well,  and  was 
both  a  wit  and  humorist;  but  he  never  wounded 
by  his  sallies.  Flora  soon  became  satisfied  that 
John  had  no  idea  of  courting  her,  and  she  threw 
off  all  shyness  and  became  on  terms  of  easy  and 
agreeable  familiarity  with  him.  John  spoke 
freely  and  playfully  of  his  own  homeliness;  told 
amusing  anecdotes  about  it,  and  spoke  of  it  in  such 
ways  as  made  Flora  laugh  heartily.  A  single 
example:  After  they  had  become  as  intimate  as 
brother  and  sister,  there  was  a  pause  in  the  con 
versation  one  day,  and  John,  after  a  deep  sigh, 
said: 

"  Well,  I'd  give  a  thousand  dollars  just  to  know 
for  one  hour  how  an  ugly  man  feels." 

Flora  laughed  immoderately. 

"Well,  John,"  said  she,  "I  think  you  might 
for  a  dollar  know  how  such  an  one  feels  for  a  life 
time." 

Then   John   roared.     Thus    matters    went    on 


388         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

until  Flora  began  to  feel  that  John's  society  was  a 
very  important  item  in  her  life  of  single  blessed 
ness.  She  met  him  with  smiles  and  parted  with 
him,  not  exactly  in  sadness,  but  with  an  expres 
sion  of  countenance  and  "good-bye,"  which 
seemed  to  say,  "John,  it's  hard  to  part  with  you, 
you  pleasant,  ugly  dog." 

Still  John  never  whispered  love,  while  every 
body  spoke  his  praises. 

About  this  time  Colonel  Summers  got  into  a 
lawsuit,  that  alarmed  him  greatly.  He  employed 
Brown,  who  disposed  of  it,  on  demurrer,  at  the 
first  term  of  the  court.  At  his  next  visit  to  Flora, 
she  expressed  her  gratitude  to  him  very  tenderly, 
and  added,  "John,  I  hope  some  day  or  other  we 
will  be  able  to  repay  the  obligation  that  we  are 
under  to  you." 

"Why,  Miss  Flora,"  said  John,  "it's  the  easiest 
thing  in  the  world  for  you  to  cancel  the  obligation 
and  make  me  the  willing  servant  of  you  both/' 

"How,  John?" 

"  Why  just  let  your  father  give  his  daughter  to 
me,  and  you  ratify  the  gift. " 

Flora  looked  at  him  and  blushed,  and  smiled, 
looked  serious,  and  said: 

"Are  you  in  earnest,  John?" 

"  In  just  as  sober  earnest  as  if  I  were  preaching." 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE   389 

"John,  I  don't  believe  you  love  me." 

"  Yes,  I  do,  Miss  Flora,  as  ardently  as  ever  man 
loved  woman,  but  until  recently  I  believed  my 
love  was  hopeless,  and  therefore  I  concealed  it, 
or  tried  to  conceal  it,  for  I  know  you  often  saw  it. " 

"  Why,  John,  you  astonish  me !  Go,  ask  pa, 
and  if  he  gives  me  to  you,  I'll  ratify  the  gift.  I 
might  get  a  handsomer  man,  but  I  never  could  get 
a  more  worthy  one." 

4 'As  to  my  beauty,"  said  John,  "why  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  One  thing  is  certain 
about  it,  and  that  is,  that  it  will  never  fade. " 

"Well,  John,  if  we  live  ten  years  longer,  I  am 
sure  I  shall  think  you  handsome;  for  your  fea 
tures  have  been  growing  more  and  more  agreeable 
to  me,  ever  since  you  began  to  visit  me." 

"  Well,  Miss  Flora,  if  they  are  agreeable  to  you — 
tolerable  to  you,  it  is  a  matter  of  perfect  indiffer 
ence  to  me  what  any  one  else  thinks  of  them. 
Another  great  advantage  you  will  have  in  marry 
ing  a  homely  man,  and  that  is,  you  will  not  be 
exposed  to  the  common  torments  of  the  wives  of 
handsome  men." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  John.  Splendid 
talents,  renown  and  fascinating  manners  are  much 
more  apt  to  win  the  admiration  of  our  sex  than  a 
pretty  face." 


390         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"  If  you  see  all  these  things  in  me,  Flora,  you  see 
more  than  I  have  ever  seen.  As  you  are  getting  in 
a  complimentary  strain,  I'll  thank  you  to  ask  your 
father  in;  for  though  I  bear  compliments  with 
great  fortitude,  they  always  embarrass  me,  and 
when  coming  from  you,  they  give  me  a  peculiar 
drawing  to  the  lips  that  utter  them." 

"  Well,  how  do  you  know  but  they  would  bear 
the  drawing  with  great  fortitude,  too?"  So  say 
ing,  she  bounced  to  her  room  and  left  him  alone, 
saying  as  she  flitted  away,  "I'll  send  my  father 
to  you  and  listen  how  you  draw  to  each  other. " 

The  Colonel  soon  made  his  appearance. 

John  looked  at  the  Colonel,  put  his  right  leg 
over  his  left,  took  it  down  again  and  patted  his 
foot.  The  Colonel  took  a  chew  of  tobacco,  cleared 
his  throat  too,  coughed  twice,  blew  his  nose  and 
looked  at  the  carpet.  "John,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"Flora  said  you  wished  to  see  me." 

"Yes,  sir, "  said  John,  "  I  have  long  had  a  warm 
attachment  to  your  daughter — and  I  thought  if  I 
could  gain  your  assent  to  address  her — " 

"To  address  her!  Why,  she  says  you  are  en 
gaged,  and  only  want  my  consent  to  get  married. 
If  that  is  the  case,  you  have  my  consent  freely. 
There  is  not  a  man  in  the  world  that  I  would  prefer 
to  you  for  my  daughter."  So  saying,  he  retired. 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE   391 

Flora  immediately  re-entered,  laughing  immod 
erately.  "Well,  John,"  said  she,  "I  don't  think 
you  had  much  of  a  'drawing'  to  pa. " 

' '  Confound  this  asking  for  daughters!"  said 
John.  "I'd  rather  ask  forty  girls  to  marry  me 
than  one  father  for  his  daughter.  I  never  acted 
like  such  a  fool  in  all  my  life ! " 

Three  weeks  from  this  date,  John  Brown  and 
Flora  Summers  became  one,  and  remained  one  in 
the  best  sense  of  the  term,  through  life.  Indeed 
Flora's  opinion  of  John's  looks  underwent  a  great 
change. 

Mitten  surrendered  himself  to  cards;  distin 
guished  himself  among  gamblers  for  his  shrewd 
ness,  and  actually  made  money  by  his  calling, 
until  he  was  arrested  in  his  career  by  that  disease 
so  common  to  gamblers,  and  so  fatal  to  all — con 
sumption.  When  he  found  the  disease  fastened 
incurably  upon  him,  he  took  to  his  room,  his 
mother's  bedroom.  The  old  family  Bible  was  there. 
She  had  often  said,  that  at  her  death  she  wished  it  to 
go  to  William,  and  there  it  was  left  for  him.  He 
opened  it,  found  in  it  many  traces  of  his  mother's 
pen,  scraps  of  paper  with  texts  of  scripture,  holy 
resolutions,  prayers,  Christian  consolation,  and 
the  like,  written  on  them.  He  closed  the  book, 
pressed  it  to  his  bosom,  and  wept  bitterly. 


392         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

Dearest,     best    of    women !"    soliloquized    he. 
"What  a  curse  have  I  been  to  thee!     What  a 
curse  have   I  been  to  myself!     One  fault  thou 
hadst,    and  only  one — .     No,   I   must  not  call  it 
a  fault — one  weakness,  shall  I  call  it?     No,  that  is 
too  harsh  a  term  for  it.     One  heavenly  virtue  in 
excess — thou  hadst  too  much  tenderness  for  thy :. 
son.     But  why  do  I  advert  to  this?     When   I" 
reached  the  age  of  reflection  and  self-government  *. 
this  very  thing   should  have  endeared  thee  the^ 
more  to  me — should  have  made  me  more  resolute ' 
in  reforming  the  errors  which  thy  excessive  kind-- 
ness  produced.     But,  oh,  how  impotent  are  human 
resolutions    against    vices    which    have    become 
constitutional!    Tom,  go  for  Mr.   Markham. " 

Mr.  Markham  came,  and  found  William  with  his 
head  on  his  mother's  Bible,  bedewing  it  with  tears. 
He  raised  his  head,  reached  his  hot  hand  to  hia 
friend,  and  after  some  struggles  for  utterance,  said; 

"  Mr.  Markham,  you  have  known  me  from  my 
childhood  to  the  present  moment,  you  have 
marked  my  every  step  in  the  pathway  of  ruin — • 
you  have  seen  me  abuse  and  torture  the  best  of 
mothers,  reject  the  counsels  of  the  best  of  uncles, 
and  the  best  of  friends,  multiplying  sins  to  cover 
sins,  insulting  men  for  disapproving  of  what  my 
own  conscience  disapproved,  avoiding  the  good, 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE    393 

consorting  with  the  depraved,  prostituting  heav 
en's  best  gifts  to  earth's  worst  purposes — in  short, 
assimilating  myself  to  the  devil,  as  far  as  it  was 
possible  for  me  to  do  so;  now  tell  me,  my  dear 
friend,  do  you  think  it  possible  for  such  an  aban 
doned  wretch  as  I  am  to  find  mercy  in  heaven? 
In  making  up  your  answer,  remember  that  I  never 
thought  of  asking  mercy,  and  probably  never 
should  have  thought  of  it,  had  I  not  seen  Death 
approaching  me  with  sure,  unerring  step." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Markham,  "you  are  not 
beyond  the  reach  of  mercy;  provided  you  seek  it 
in  the  way  of  God's  appointment. " 

"Be  pleased  to  instruct  me  in  that  way;  for  I 
am  lamentably  deficient  in  knowledge  of  the 
Bible." 

*'  Well,  in  the  first  place,  you  cannot  expect 
mercy  unless  you  ask  for  it.  If  you  ask  for  it  you 
cannot  expect  to  have  your  request  granted  unless 
you  perform  the  conditions  upon  which  such  re 
quest  is  to  be  granted.  Now  these  conditions  are 
(the  essential  ones)  that  you  show  mercy  to  every 
human  being  that  has  offended  you — " 

"That  is  but  reasonable." 

"  You  must  freely,  and  from  your  heart,  forgive 
every  one  who  has  trespassed  against  you.  You 
remember  your  infantile  prayer?" 


394          STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

"  Yes,  but  I  never  understood  it,  until  this  mo 
ment.  " 

"You  must  seek  to  be  reconciled  to  every  one 
who  has  aught  against  you." 

"The  hardest  condition  of  all.  I  can  forgive 
those  who  have  injured  me;  but  how  shall  I  ask 
peace  of  those  whom  I  never  wronged?" 

"God  never  wronged  you,  did  He?  And  yet 
He  asks  you  to  be  reconciled  to  Him. ' ' 

"Wonderful!"  ejaculated  William,  thought 
fully. 

"You  would  not  come  to  me,  William,  and  ask 
a  favor  of  me,  and  at  the  same  time  say,  'I  ask  it, 
but  I  do  not  believe  you  will  grant  it,'  would  you? ' ' 
said  Mr.  Markham. 

"  No,  that  would  be  to  insult  you  to  your  face. " 

"  Neither  must  you  ask  favors  of  God,  believing 
that  He  will  not  grant  them.  You  must  ask, 
believing  in  His  goodness,  His  word,  and  His 
promises,  i.  e.,  you  must  ask  in  faith.1' 

"Perfectly  just!" 

"  If  you  were  to  ask  a  favor  of  me,  and  I  should 
say  come  again,  I  cannot  grant  it  just  now ;  would 
you  turn  away  from  me  in  despair,  and  never  ask 
me  again?" 

"Surely  not." 

"  Then  do  not  show  less  confidence  in  God  than 


WILLIAM  MITTEN  AT  COLLEGE    395 

you  have  in  me.  If  He  does  not  answer  your 
prayers  as  soon  as  you  expect,  pray  on  and  bide 
His  time." 

"  Well,  God  helping  me,  I  will  follow  your  coun 
sels  this  time,  to  the  day  of  my  death.  Pray  once 
for  me,  thou  heaven-born  and  heaven-directed 
man!" 

Mr.  Markham  prayed  with  him  as  if  his  "lips 
were  touched  with  a  live  coal  from  off  the  altar. " 

William  now  gave  himself  to  prayer  and  reading 
the  Scriptures.  He  sent  for  all  within  his  reach 
whom  he  had  offended,  or  who  had  offended  him; 
freely  forgave,  and  was  freely  forgiven.  Two, 
three  and  four  months  the  disease  spared  him; 
but  he  found  peace;  rejoiced  for  a  month  more, 
preached  powerfully  to  all  who  came  to  his  bed 
side,  and  with  his  last  breath  cried,  "Mother, 
receive  thy  son!"  and  died. 

Thus  was  the  career  of  William  Mitten  ended — 
ended  ere  he  had  reached  an  age  at  which  life  is 
hardly  begun.  He  was  indeed  a  youth  of  brilliant 
talents,  rendering  it  probable,  had  they  been  prop 
erly  cultivated,  for  his  attaining  much  promi 
nence  in  his  section  of  the  State ;  but  he  ignored 
good  advice,  and  gave  heed  to  only  the  evil  in 
fluences  that  surrounded  him. 

May  it  not  be  hoped  that  the  prayer  which 


396         STORIES  WITH  A  MORAL 

issued  from  his  lips  as  he  was  about  to  breathe  his 
last  found  an  answering  echo  on  the  other  shore, 
and  that  the  loving  spirit  of  his  mother  was  able 
to  meet  that  of  her  son  in  Paradise? 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


251986 


LD  21A-60w-2,'67 
(H241slO)476B 


General  Library  I 

University  of  California       / 

Berkeley  j 


966orc 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


ill 


ii 


I 


